I love Humanity and Nature,
But I don't like to merely stroll,
I know for sure, while filling pages:
No one will grasp my works at all.
Content with small stuff, I’m beholding
What stingy life gave, as it could:
A leaning elm and barn — my gold things,
A small, wide hill; on it, a wood.
No ill-bred fame or persecution
From fellow men I think I'll face,
Yet I've been trimming lilac bushes
Around my garden and terrace.
Люблю людей, люблю природу,
Но не люблю ходить гулять,
И твердо знаю, что народу
Моих творений не понять.
Довольный малым, созерцаю
То, что дает нещедрый рок:
Вяз, прислонившийся к сараю,
Покрытый лесом бугорок…
Ни грубой славы, ни гонений
От современников не жду,
Но сам стригу кусты сирени
Вокруг террасы и в саду.
«Why pretend to be / Now breeze, now stone, now a bird? / Why smile at me, / In sudden lightning from summer’s sky? Don’t torture me further, and don’t touch me! / Leave me to my prophetic dreams... / A drunken flame reels / Over the dry grey marshes. And the Muse in a ragged shaw...»
«Here summer is over / As if it never happened. / Under the sun it's warmer, / Only it's not sufficient. All that could be realized, / Like a five-fingered leaf, in / My hands was brought straight, / Only it's not sufficient. Neither evil nor good / Was lost here in vain. / It all...»
«Here're the girls — they wish to love, / Here're the boys — they wish to wander, / All changes in that april just unite, / Consoloidate the people with each other. O, the new month, the new such Lord, / You seek in such a way new favour, / You may be generous in your words, / Letti...»
«Outside, the blizzard sets in deep / And all its polish coats. / The paper seller is asleep, / Her kiosk, drifting, floats. Not once we’ve happened to observe / In our lives’ lengthy course, / The snowfall comes with shy reserve / To trick our eyes perforce. Concealing unrepentantl...»