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.
«From the pool of light, suddenly, / you slipped out in a thin shawl — / we disturbed no one at all, / roused not a servant from sleep...»
«Out of a half-lit room, at once, / Shrouded in zephyr, you dashed out ready. / We didn’t trouble anybody, / We did not wake up sleeping maids.»
«O, heavens, you will be my nightmare / It can’t be that you are so fully sightless / And day burned down like a piece of paper / A bit of smoke and a bit of ashes»
«Subtler than subtleness — / You subtle face. / Fairer than fairness — / Your fair hand. / From the entire universe / Away you stand. / And all in you — / Is unavoidable: / Seems unavoidable your quiet blues, / And the tiny fingers, / Never settling down. / And the gentle...»