Oh, the unconquerable heaviness
Of these waters silenced
Behind centuries-old dams!
Oh Lord! It’s still the same, it’s hard for me
With my heart full to overflowing,
And a muse who’s un-talkative.
О, этих вод обезмолвленных
За вековыми запрудами
Тяжесть непреодолимая!
Господи! Так же мне! Трудно мне
С сердцем моим переполненным,
С Музой несловоохотливой.
«When, like a beast, the snow storm roars, / when, in a rage, it howls, / you do not have to lock the doors, / of your residing house. When on a lasting trip you go / the road is hard, supposing, / you ought to open wide your door / leave it unlocked, don't close it. / / As you leav...»
«Wintertime. Night. Flying over the lampshade / a butterfly struggles: / wishing to rise high above the precarious fortune / one bungles. / / Now in December a summer time butterfly / wants to revive, / not even thinking about / the Good and the Evil in life. / / Is it a butterf...»
«This is not a park you visit to relax and meditate. / In a circus one has got to fall and rise, not sit and wait. / / Sliding round, round, round right beneath the top / one must not have any doubts, think of something like a flop. / / Dressing up for the occasion doesn’t really mean...»
«to Zh. B. I have a shabby jacket on, / It’s rather old and quite worn out. / I ask the tailor to come round / and alter it before too long. / / I tell him playfully: "You see, / the jacket needs an alteration, / the art and skill of dress creation / will bring the best of luck to...»