Silver bluebell, are you singing,
Or, perchance, my heart is dreaming?
Light from rosy icon flashes
Falling on my golden lashes.
Though I'm not that gentle infant
in the flapping splash of pigeons,
Yet my dreams are sweet and distant,
Somewhere in the woodland regions.
I don't need the narrow house,
Word and mystery won't welcome.
Teach me, please, to dream and drowse,
Fall asleep and never waken.
Колокольчик среброзвонный,
Ты поёшь? Иль сердцу снится?
Свет от розовой иконы
На златых моих ресницах.
Пусть не я тот нежный отрок
В голубином крыльев плеске,
Сон мой радостен и кроток
О нездешнем перелеске.
Мне не нужен вздох могилы,
Слову с тайной не обняться.
Научи, чтоб можно было
Никогда не просыпаться.
«She came towards me, silent like the moonlit night, / With violet-hooded eyes, like inky night was gazing, / Where soft the gentle dewdrops grass-tipped quivered blazing, / She came towards me – perfectly arrayed, just right, / And soft, she breathed, as the insinuating night. The secret ...»
«I'll be yours if you want. Understand if you can / If I like anyone in this world, you're the one. / I'd been cold, pale and feeble before I met you. / Well, I come from the bottom, deep, quiet and blue. No, don't hurry. The moon will be shining for us. / There it is! Can you see it? New mo...»
«To S. L. Kobilinsky The windows steamed up. / In the yard the moon hangs. / And you stand aimlessly / before the window. The wind dies down arguing / with the row of gray birches. / There has been much sorrow... / There have been many tears... Before you arises involuntarily / the ...»
«And water? A moment – clear... / A moment – circles, mottled, fish... / Just so thought! Here she is... / But she is – the depths, / Entered with trepidation.»