My unglorious day is waning,
Finally the end has come…
Oh, my ash-tree ice! My verses,
Light-transparent frigid ones!
I do not intend to leave my
Useless goods to anyone.
I shine up the crystal and the
Silver for myself alone.
And my icon lamp is burning,
Getting rosy from inside…
Well, and you who do not need it,
From my feast just hide your eyes…
It’s the arctic here. With reason
I keep warm as daylight wanes
With this secret heat, emitted
From a glassy-surfaced blaze.
На исходе день невзрачный,
Наконец, пришел конец...
Мой холодный, мой прозрачный,
Стих мой, лед-ясенец!
Никому не завещаю
Я ненужное добро.
Для себя лишь засвечаю
Хрустали и серебро, —
И горит моя лампада,
Розовея изнутри...
Ну а ты, кому не надо,
Ты на пир мой не смотри...
Здесь полярный круг. Недаром
Греюсь на исходе дня
Этим сокровенным жаром
Застекленного огня.
«The pillow hot / On both sides, / The second candle / Dying, the ravens / Crying. Haven’t / Slept all night, too late / To dream of sleep… / How unbearably white / The blind on the white window. / Good morning, morning! »
«And with you, my first vagary, / I parted. In the east it turned blue. / You said simply: ‘I won’t forget you.’ / I didn’t know at first what you could mean. / / Rise and set, the other faces, / Dear today, and tomorrow gone. / Why is it that at this page / Alone the corner ...»
«A dusty waste-plot by the cemetery, / Behind it, a river flashing blue. / You said to me: ‘Go get thee to a nunnery, / Or get a fool to marry you…’ / / Well, princes are good at such speeches, / As a girl is quick to tears, – / But may those words stream like an ermine mantle ...»
«The enemy had burned his cottage home, / And murdered all his family. / So where can a soldier turn his steps, / To whom can he carry his sorrow? In his deep grief the soldier went / Until he came to a crossroad. / He found in the expanse of field / A mount that was overgrown with grass...»