Oh, to hell with this storm, damn this snow and hail –
pounding on the rooftop, driving in white nails!
But me – I’m not frightened, and I know my fate:
my wastrel heart has nailed me to you – nailed us tight!
Ах, метель такая, просто чёрт возьми!
Забивает крышу белыми гвоздьми.
Только мне не страшно, и в моей судьбе
Непутёвым сердцем я прибит к тебе.
«Upon fresh ground falls and melts / At once unnoticed a thin film. / The harsh and chilly spring / The ripened buds does kill. / Sight of early death is so horrid / That I can't look at God's creation, and am riven / With sadness, to which king David / Millenia of life has given.»
«Why do you pretend to be / A wind, a bird, or a stone? / Why do you smile at me / From the sky with a sudden dawn? Do not torment me, do not touch! / Leave me to wise cares, away! / The inebriated flame sways / Over dried-up marshes gray. And Muse in a torn kerchief / Sings disconsol...»
«Transparent glass of empty sky / The bleached-out bulky prison building / And churchgoers' solemn singing / Over Volkhov, growing blue with light. September wind tore birch leaves off / Through branches tossed and screamed with hate / And city recollects its fate: / Here ruled Martha an...»
«I Smells like burning. For four weeks now / The dry ground on the swamplands bakes. / Today even birds did not sing songs / And the aspen-tree does not shake. Sun has stopped in divine displeasure / Easter rain did not pelt fields hard. / A one-legged passerby came here / And alone sai...»