Oh peaceful hours of precious solitude!
Epiphanies I treasure like prized grain —
Which sprouts from my soul’s dark terrain
From inspiration’s seed to charmed and verdant fruit.
Souls' torments in the days gone by
And wine — set heart aflame;
While now sole remains
Enliven me — hushed dusk and Solitude.
You mold songs, silence and I stand in gratitude.
Hopes, dreams You link to life by solid chains.
Unwavering branch out from your domain
My fate and path — your verisimilitude.
And if it is my lot to die in vain,
Of sailors hitting bottom — plain refrain
Sing me a wistful ditty — Solitude!
Заветные часы уединенья!
Ваш каждый миг лелею, как зерно;
Во тьме души да прорастет оно
Таинственным побегом вдохновенья.
В былые дни страданье и вино
Воспламеняли сердце. Ты одно
Живишь меня теперь — уединенье.
С мечтою — жизнь, с молчаньем — песнопенье
Связало ты, как прочное звено.
Незыблемо с тобой сопряжено
Судьбы моей грядущее решенье.
И если мне погибнуть суждено —
Про моряка, упавшего на дно,
Ты песенку мне спой — уединенье!
«In boisterous moire dress, in boisterous moire dress / By the moonlit night avenue You walk, through my imagination, / As beyound the sea... Oh! Your dress is refined, / Your talma is sky-blue lapis, / And the sandy walk is adorned by a leafage as — / In spiderlike paws, in a jaguar fur....»
«I — am. You — will be. Between us — store of wisdom. / I drink. You thirsty. Agreement — usellessness. / Us dozens, centuries, hundred thousands years / Separate. — God does not build bridges. Please, Be! — this is my commandment. / Please, Let me pass by, with b'ated breat...»
«In midst of waves, there are the silver beads / And scraped by time paints of the white enamel… / I so like the morns which autumn breeds, / For their caress, so short and so gentle. And I do like the foam on the shore, / When it again is whitening in mire, / And, greedy, I am hiding he...»
«I thought that the heart made of stone, / That it’s fully empty and dead: / Though fire in it had been thrown, / It’s not damaged or just upset. And that’s right: it was not tormented, / If — painful, then only a bit, / But, yet, it is better to end it, / Put out, while you can ...»