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.
«Oh no, the rumours tell you lies, / I live and breathe with you as ever, / With years you haven’t lost the ties / Which I have no intent to sever. / I’ve always had you in my heart / Though acting like a homage giver, / I worshiped others but I had / The cautions of an old believer»
«Love is a poison with a flavour, / Though sweet, it’s poison anyway, / And for the instant joy and favour / Long lasting grief is what we pay. / / The flame of love is vivifying, / They say it, but , in fact, we see: / It’s ravaging and rather trying / And ruining the soul for m...»
«You wake, o Baiae, from your tomb / With the appearance of Aurora's rays, / But crimson dawn will not return / The radiance of bygone days, / Will not bring back the cool of sanctuaries / Where swarms of beauties played, / And never will your columns of...»
«Bent o'er his sabre, torrents starting / From his dim eyes, the bold hussar / Thus greets his cherish'd maid, while parting / For distant fields of war: 'Weep not, my fair one! O forbear thee! / No anguish can those tears remove; / For, by my troth and beard, I swear thee, / Time ...»