Lovely night, I will never retrieve it,
And I won't see my sweet precious love.
And the nightingale's song, I won't hear it,
Happy song that it sang in the grove!
That sweet night is now gone irrevocably,
You can't tell it: please come back and wait.
Autumn weather has now set in locally,
With perpetual rains, all is wet.
Fast asleep in the grave is my sweetheart
Keeping love, as before, in her heart.
And however it tries, autumn blizzard
Cannot wake her from sleep, flesh and blood.
So the nightingale's singing has ended,
As the song-bird has taken to flight,
And I can't hear the song now, so splendid,
Which it sang on that sweet chilly night.
Gone and lost are the joyous emotions
That I had in my life and conceived.
All I have now is chill in my conscience.
What is gone can't be ever retrieved.
Не вернуть мне ту ночку прохладную,
Не видать мне подруги своей,
Не слыхать мне ту песню отрадную,
Что в саду распевал соловей!
Унеслася та ночка весенняя,
Ей не скажешь: «Вернись, подожди».
Наступила погода осенняя,
Бесконечные льются дожди.
Крепким сном спит в могиле подруга,
Схороня в своем сердце любовь.
Не разбудит осенняя вьюга
Крепкий сон, не взволнует и кровь.
И замолкла та песнь соловьиная,
За моря соловей улетел,
Не звучит уже более, сильная,
Что он ночкой прохладною пел.
Пролетели и радости милые,
Что испытывал в жизни тогда.
На душе уже чувства остылые.
Что прошло — не вернуть никогда.
«Like a belated gift, / Winter’s palpable to me: / and I’m in love with / it’s first uncertain sweep. It’s terror’s beautiful, / like the start of what’s dreadful: / even the ravens fearful / of its leafless circle. But most intense, fragile – / is its bulging blueness: ...»
«Snow, snow the whole world over, / Sweeping it, end to end. / The candle burned on the table, / the candle burned. Like a crowd of summer midges / flying to the flame, / droves of snowflakes swarmed / against the window pane. Snow-blasts moulded circles, / arrows on the glass. / Th...»
«Here, in my Moscow – cupolas gleaming! / Here, in my Moscow – great bells ringing! / And the tombs here, facing, / Of Tsarinas, and the Tsars. You’ll not know, at dawn in the Kremlin, / It’s easiest to breathe – in this world, I mean! / You’ll not know, at dawn in the Kremlin ...»
«You came — / determined, / because I was large, / because I was roaring, / but on close inspection / you saw a mere boy. / You seized / and snatched away my heart / and began / to play with it — / like a girl with a bouncing ball. / And before this miracle / every woman /...»