Maybe, it's too late or, maybe, early,
It has not occurred to me for years,
I resemble now Don Juan, really,
Like a proper flippant man of verse.
What's the matter? What has happened, really?
Every day I have some other chick.
And I lose self-pity, willy-nilly,
And defy unfaithfulness and trick.
I have always kept my heart from simple,
Tender feelings, and I wonder what
I am looking for in oh, so cripple
Women, so light-headed, and so void.
Hold me back, restrain me, scornful feeling,
I have always been marked up by you.
In my heart I have a chilly steaming
And the rustle of lilac, so blue.
In my heart I have a lemon sunset,
Through the fog I hear someone say:
For your freedom you will have to answer,
Well, Don Juan, take the challenge, eh?
As I take the challenge within reason,
I can see the same old thing I have:
I must take a storm for blooming season
And mistake a thrill for real love.
That's the reason That's the way it happened.
Every day I have some other chick,
So that I might always smile, be happy
And defy unfaithfulness and trick.
Может, поздно, может, слишком рано,
И о чем не думал много лет,
Походить я стал на Дон-Жуана,
Как заправский ветреный поэт.
Что случилось? Что со мною сталось?
Каждый день я у других колен.
Каждый день к себе теряю жалость,
Не смиряясь с горечью измен.
Я всегда хотел, чтоб сердце меньше
Вилось в чувствах нежных и простых,
Что ж ищу в очах я этих женщин —
Легкодумных, лживых и пустых?
Удержи меня, мое презренье,
Я всегда отмечен был тобой.
На душе холодное кипенье
И сирени шелест голубой.
На душе — лимонный свет заката,
И все то же слышно сквозь туман, —
За свободу в чувствах есть расплата,
Принимай же вызов, Дон-Жуан!
И, спокойно вызов принимая,
Вижу я, что мне одно и то ж —
Чтить метель за синий цветень мая,
Звать любовью чувственную дрожь.
Так случилось, так со мною сталось,
И с того у многих я колен,
Чтобы вечно счастье улыбалось,
Не смиряясь с горечью измен.
«I love You, My Guardian Angel, in gloom. / In gloom, that has followed me out of the womb. / Because you were once my fair gorgeous bride. / Because you have seen all the secrets I hide. / Because we are bound by secrets and night. / Because you’re my sister, my daughter, my bride. / B...»
«Night. The city grew calm. / Behind the large window / The mood is solemn and somber, / As if a man is dying. / But there someone stands simply sad, / Troubled by his misfortune, / With an opened collar, / And looks at the stars. / “Stars, stars, / Tell me the cause of grief!” ...»
«A mournful waxwork exhibition / Is opened for the third year straight. / A crowd of drunks awaits admission... / While in the grave, the queen awaits. She lies there, in her tomb of glass, / Neither alive nor fully dead, / And shameless people, as they pass, / All whisper of the life sh...»
«When you are standing on my path, / So full of life, so full of beauty, / And yet so wearied, / You only talk about sad things, / You only think about death, / You do not love a soul, / And you despise your beauty — / What then? Could I offend you? / O, no! I’m not an oppressor, ...»