Pursued by howling foes,
I run a mortal race;
The newly fallen snow
Is so nice for chase.
The hooting, tally-ho'ing
Surrounds me, high-pitched.
Saliva bubbles and foams in
The jaws of an old bitch.
The world of rimy snouts,
Of canine bloodshot eyes,
They all are so proud,
The hound's role is prized.
And setting back my ears,
I run for life, half slain
By suffocating fear
Amidst the shining plain.
I'm running, running, running,
But know all the same:
It ends my life, this funny,
This ancient hunting game.
Свой дом родимый брошу,
Бегу, едва дыша;
По первой по пороше
Охота хороша.
Мир будет улюлюкать:
Ату его, ату...
Слюна у старой суки
Пузырится во рту.
Мир песьих, красноглазых,
Заиндевевших морд,
Где каждый до отказа
Собачьей ролью горд.
И я, прижавши уши,
Бегу, бегу, бегу,
И сердце душит душу
В блистающем снегу.
И в вое кобелином,
Гудящем за спиной,
Игрой такой старинной
Закончу путь земной.
«The moon, weary in the pall of cloud, / cast a murky glance at the hill. / The table was laid for six, / and only one place was empty. My husband, myself and my friends / are seeing the new year in. / Why are my fingers covered as with blood? / Why does the wine burn like poison? The h...»
«Oh, if I’ve known, when, in dress of whiteness, / Muse was just coming to my living place, / That to the lyre, stoned in the timeless, / My hands’ warm flesh will be forever pressed. Oh, if I’ve known, when was flying fierce / And playful tempest of my love, the last, / That to the ...»
«Oh, Lord, I can forgive what’s done to me by them, / But better, a wild hawk, I would tear a lamb, / Or, a snake — sting the sleeping in the grasses, / Than to be man, and see what people masses / Do on the earth, and through the noxious shame / To not dare up my eyes to heavens’ pur...»
«One goes in straightforward ways, / One in a circle roams: / Waits for a girl of his gone days, / Or for returning home. But I do go — and woe is there — / By a way nor straight, nor broad, / But into never and nowhere, / Like trains — off the railroad.»