Canes have started rustling on the river bank,
Princess-girl is crying with her face pale, blank.
Pretty girl has chanted «loves me — loves me not»,
The unwoven flowers down the river float.
She is not to marry later in the spring,
Goblin has foretold a very frightening thing.
Mice have stripped the birch-tree of the bark, so hard,
They have frightened girlie out of the yard.
Horses fight, so threateningly jerking their heads,
Ah, dark hair is what goblin really hates.
Incense smell is coming from the nearby groves,
Loud winds are singing their dirge-like songs.
On the river bank she sadly walks around,
As the foamy wave is spinning her a shroud.
Зашумели над затоном тростники.
Плачет девушка-царевна у реки.
Погадала красна девица в семик.
Расплела волна венок из повилик.
Ах, не выйти в жены девушке весной,
Запугал ее приметами лесной:
На березке пообъедена кора, —
Выживают мыши девушку с двора.
Бьются кони, грозно машут головой, —
Ой, не любит черны косы домовой.
Запах ладана от рощи ели льют,
Звонки ветры панихидную поют.
Ходит девушка по бережку грустна,
Ткет ей саван нежнопенная волна.
«There in the land where the waves / break, on empty shores, forever, / and where the moonlight makes / a sweet, warm twilight hour, / where the harem’s languid days / delight the Mussulman, / there an enchantress caressed me, / and gave me this Talisman. And, caressingly, she said /...»
«If desires fly by like shadows, / If vows are empty words, / Is it worth it to live in this fog of delusion, / Is it worth it to live if the truth is dead? Does one need eternity for useless striving, / Does one need eternity for deceptive words? / What is worthy of life lives without dou...»
«Oh, genius of Stratford, return! / Return to your foggy Avon / Where men still are men of grandeur. / Of wisdom — severe and gray. / Return, unexpected as before. / Stride into the world in Brabantine lace, / In an old camisole and high boots / That have been patched on every stage. ...»
«The old man shuffles to the fish market / To buy half a pound of perch. / A mimosa glitters with drops of rain. / The river’s smooth surface gleams. O, these provincial lodgings. / Local voices. The barking of dogs. / Life here consists of food and drink. / A bed. A roof. Tobacco. Vi...»