Brooding, dark, and elegant —
Stranger, aren't you the man
who frightened the children yesterday?
«Mama!» they shouted, «he's wicked!» and ran.
You went to visit my sweetheart
where she took the evening air,
said: «Permit me to introduce myself...»
And laughed: «...how beautiful you are...»
She twisted the ring on her finger,
smiled like any coquette, and said:
«Sir, I've heard of your wicked adventures—
but why is your glove stained red?»
«Believe me, Lady,
those stories aren't true—
Do I look like an evil adventurer?
I'm only as old as you.»
«Oh sir, I can hardly believe that...
you have such melancholy eyes!»
Strands of spider-glitter drifted
in the water-mirrored skies.
Two figures were seen on the pathway,
the little boat was gone...
And a long embrace of water
silenced my sweetheart's moan.
Смугол, темен и изящен,
Не от тебя ли, незнакомец, вчера
С криком «Маменьки! он страшен!»
Разбежалась детвора?
Ты подошел, где девица:
«Позвольте представиться!»
Взял труд поклониться
И намекнул с смешком: «Красавица!»
Она же, играя перчаткой,
Тебя вдруг спросила лукаво:
«О сударь с красною печаткой,
О вас дурная очень слава?»
«Я не знахарь, не кудесник,
Верить можно ли молве?
Знайте, дева, я ровесник
<. . . . . . . . . .>
Она же: «Извините!
Задумчивый какой!»
Летят паучьи нити
На синий водопой.
Пошли по тропке двое,
И взята ими лодка.
И вскоре дно морское
Уста целовало красотке.
«Wait for me and I’ll return, only wait very hard. / Wait when you are filled with sorrow as you watch the yellow rain. / Wait when the wind sweeps the snowdrifts. / Wait in the sweltering heat. / Wait when others have stopped waiting, forgetting their yesterdays. / Wait even when from af...»
«Wait for me, and I’ll return. / But really truly wait, / Wait, when you are concerned / By yellow rains of late, / Wait, when the snows blow, / Wait, when it’s hot, / Wait, when others say to go, / With yesterday forgot. / Wait, when from far away / Letters don’t arrive, / ...»
«No, I'm not Byron, its my role / To be an undiscovered wonder, / Like him, a persecuted wand'rer, / But furnished with a Russian soul. / I started sooner, sooner ending, / My mind will never reach so high; / Within my soul, beyond the mending, / My shattered aspirations lie; / Dark o...»
«A gold cloud rested the whole night / Upon the breast of a huge rock; / And cheerfully at dawn it dashed / Into the blue not to come back Wet traces in the crevices / Of ancient stone like tears remained; / And deep in thought alone it stands / And weeps into the distant void.»