The city took off its wintery things.
The snows turned slobbery.
Spring has come again,
foolish and loose-tongued
as an army cadet.
Город зимнее снял.
Снега распустили слюнки.
Опять пришла весна,
глупа и болтлива, как юнкер.
«In this hour when darkened skies arc by the awful thunder rent, / In this hour when shakes our dwelling to its very fundament, / In this hour when every hope and every love are in despair, / When the mightiest in spirit purse the brow in restless care / In this hour your hearts shall rouse ...»
«Evil dragon, 'mid the zenith hotly burning, / Thou, who all about thee, fiery threads art turning, / With a stifling hotness parching all the valley, — / Evil dragon, lo, too speedy is thy rapture / O'er thy victory; for, compassing thy capture, / From my dark, deep quiver, poisoned barb...»
«Over the river the hazes that flow / 'Neath the moon in the lonesome night, / They beset me with hate, and they bring me delight / For the stillness thereof and the woe. Forgotten the beauty of day, / And thro' mist I stealthily pace, / A track scarce beheld, in my travail I trace / And...»
«Friend beloved, dost thou see not / That whate'er our gaze embraces, / Is but a reflex, but a shadow / Of the things the eye ne'er traces? Friend beloved, dost thou hear not / That the roar of earthly surging / Is naught but a distorted echo / Of harmonies in triumph merging? Friend be...»