Clear-etched lines of mountains;
The pale-untrustworthy sea…
My excited vision un-curtained,
Drowns in the shoreless leas.
In my hidden hopes created
The natural world is ideal,
And all is ashes that is real:
The water, the steppe, the cliffs.
Чёткие линии гор;
Бледно-неверное море...
Гаснет восторженный взор,
Тонет в бессильном просторе.
Создал я в тайных мечтах
Мир идеальной природы, —
Что перед ним этот прах:
Степи, и скалы, и воды!
«At first she turned the whole thing to a joke, / Then understood, and started to reproach me. / Shaking her lovely head from side to side / She started wiping tears away with her handkerchief. And teasing me with her teeth she laughed, / Unexpectedly forgetting the whole thing. / As sudde...»
«I must read only children’s books, / Cherish only children’s thoughts, / Scatter all big things far and wide, / Rise up from the deep-rooted sadness. I’m weary to death of life, / And accept nothing from it, / But I love my unfortunate land / Because I’ve not seen any other. In...»
«She is still unborn, / She is both music and word, / And thus the unbreakable bond / Of all that is alive. The breasts of the sea heave serenely, / But, like a madman, the day is full of light, / And the pale lilac of the foam / Lies in the turbid sky-blue vessel. May my lips at last a...»
«Thy image, wavering, agonizing, / I could not perceive through the mist. / “My Lord!” I muttered by mistake, / Speaking without realizing. The name of God, like some huge bird, / Took flight and left my breast. / In front of me the mist swirls thick, / An empty cage is left behind.»