Trinity devotions. Morning cannon rite,
Birch-trees in the grove are filled with ringing light.
Villagers are coming after festive sleep,
In the chimes of wind the heady spring will steep.
There are bands and branches on the window panes.
I will cry with flowers over grieves and pains.
Sing, you birds, lamenting, I will sing along,
We'll consign to dust my boyhood to this song.
Trinity devotions. Morning cannon rite,
Birch-trees in the grove are filled with ringing light.
Троицыно утро, утренний канон,
В роще по березкам белый перезвон.
Тянется деревня с праздничного сна,
В благовесте ветра хмельная весна.
На резных окошках ленты и кусты.
Я пойду к обедне плакать на цветы.
Пойте в чаще, птахи, я вам подпою,
Похороним вместе молодость мою.
Троицыно утро, утренний канон.
В роще по березкам белый перезвон.
«to Valentina Serova Well may I curse in years to come / The features of your face. / My love is like a cataclysm, / Transcending time and space. / There's not a friend or comrade dear / Who in the light of day / Could come into this flaming fire / And pull me clear away. / Despairin...»
«Don't weep! Above the yellow steppe / Still hangs the same late summer heat / And they, with children on their backs, / Come still, with tired and stumbling feet. No tears! And as the crowd goes by / From Stalingrad to God knows where, / Don't try to catch their downcast eyes — / You ...»
«In Vyazma is an ancient house / Which once one night was home to us. That night we ate whatever came, / The source of drink was much the same. At dawn, we went away to fight / And one of us lived not till night. But this I know, that as he died, / We and the house were in his mind. That ...»
«to Valentina Serova That's how we live, without forgetting, / Today it's him, tomorrow I. / The cup of death goes round the table / And each must wait his turn to die. If I am blind to how you treat me. / It's not because I cannot see. / It is because, around the table, / The cup comes...»