Languor-wing flies in the middle of fable,
made breathless by a girl's charms;
tangled in nets of golden wool
Let me die here in your arms.
Неголь сладко-нежной сказки,
Мленник дивных девьих ног,
Я в сетях златой повязки,
Я умру в твоих руках.
«On Sunday walk near Protestant cathedral / I came across a funeral in motion / The absent-minded passerby I noticed / Put all of them in a severe commotion. The foreign language did not reach my ear / And only a thin whiplash shone clear / And the empty holiday thoroughfare / Reflected ...»
«1. Hagia Sofia — here to stop and stare / The Lord has ordered people and the tsars! / Your dome, as an eyewitness once described it, / As if by chains is hanging from the stars. 2. To all a shining light — age of Justinian, / When to steal off for foreign gods unseen / Dedicated D...»
«1. Where Roman magistrate once judged the foreign nation / Basilica stands. With muscles bursts / A light and cross-shaped bridge: Christ joyful, like the first / Adam, having spread his nerves out in elation. 2. But will reveal itself the hidden plan! / Here might of granite arches took ...»
«"How luxury of these wares and robes and lace / Is loathsome to me in my disgrace" / "In the stone Troezene / A famous sorrow will be / Stairs in the king's name / Will grow red from shame / Black sun will rise above / A mother in love" / "Oh if the hatred only in my chest had boiled...»