The snowstorm is crying like a Romany violin.
Sweet is the girl. She is wicked when smiling.
Blue are her eyes, do the give me a scare?
I need quite a lot, and I don't really care.
We're so much alike and so much contrasted, —
You're young. I am old. And my life has all rusted.
The young ones are happy while I am all wizened
Recalling the past, in this terrible blizzard.
I'mnot mollycoddled. The storm is my violin.
My heart is snow-clad when I see you smiling.
Плачет метель, как цыганская скрипка.
Милая девушка, злая улыбка,
Я ль не робею от синего взгляда?
Много мне нужно и много не надо.
Так мы далеки и так не схожи —
Ты молодая, а я все прожил.
Юношам счастье, а мне лишь память
Снежною ночью в лихую замять.
Я не заласкан — буря мне скрипка.
Сердце метелит твоя улыбка.
«So many stones have been thrown at me / That I don't fear them any longer / The trap an elegant tower has become, / Among tall towers, the taller. / I'm grateful to their builders — so be gone / Their sadness and their worry, go away, / Early from here I can see the dawn / And here...»
«My voice is weak, but will does not get weaker. / It has become still better without love, / The sky is tall, the mountain wind is blowing / My thoughts are sinless to true God above. / The sleeplessness has gone to other places, / I do not on grey ashes count my sorrow, / And the skewe...»
«He was jealous, fearful and tender, / He loved me like God's only light, / And that she not sing of the past times / He killed my bird colored white. He said, in the lighthouse at sundown: / "Love me, laugh and write poetry!" / And I buried the joyous songbird / Behind a round well near...»
«True love's memory, You are heavy! / In your smoke I sing and burn, / And the rest - is only fire / To keep the chilled soul warm. To keep warm the sated body, / They need my tears for this / Did I for this sing your song, God? / Did I take part of love for this? Let me drink of such a...»