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.
«I think about the morning of your glory, / About the morning of your days too, when / Like a demon you from sleep had stirred / And were a god for men. I think of when your eyebrows came together / Over the burning torches of your eyes, / Of how the ancient blood's eternal lava / Rushed...»
«Who's made of stone, who's made of mud, / And I'm made from silver and shine. / My act is betrayal, my name is Marina, / The fragile sea foam am I. Who is made from mud, who is made from flesh — / There's coffin and coffin plates.. / Baptized in a sea font and unceasingly / Broken in ...»
«Deep in the desert's misery, / far in the fury of the sand, / there stands the awesome Upas Tree / lone watchman of a lifeless land. The wilderness, a world of thirst, / in wrath engendered it and filled / its every root, every accursed / grey leafstalk with a sap that killed. Dissolvi...»
«Storm-clouds hurtle, storm-clouds hover; / Flying snow is set alight / By the moon whose form they cover; / Blurred the heavens, blurred the night. / On and on our coach advances, / Little bell goes din-din-din... / Round are vast, unknown expanses; / Terror, terror is within. — Fas...»