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!
«I loved you; and I probably still do, / And for awhile the feeling may remain — / But let my love no longer trouble you: / I do not wish to cause you any pain. I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew / The jealousy, the shyness — though in vain — / Made up a love so tender and so t...»
«I loved you; and perhaps I love you still, / The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet / It burns so quietly within my soul, / No longer should you feel distressed by it. Silently and hopelessly I loved you, / At times too jealous and at times too shy. / God grant you find another who ...»
«I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul / The former love has never gone away, / But let it not recall to you my dole; / I wish not sadden you in any way. I loved you silently, without hope, fully, / In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain; / I loved you so tenderly and truly, / As let yo...»
«Columns of grandsons, stiff at attention; / gun carriage, coffin, riderless horse. / Wind brings no sound of their glorious Russian / trumpets, their weeping trumpets of war. / Splendid regalia deck out the corpse: / thundering Zhukov rolls towrd death’s mansion. As a commander, making ...»