A capricious, avaricious kind —
Like fire, the Russian mind is dire:
Irrepressible, lucidity for hire,
So gay — and gloom will always find.
Like an undeviating needle,
It sees the pole in ripples and murky still;
From abstract daydreams in life’s cradle
It shows the course for timorous will.
The way an eagle sees through fog
It examines all the valley’s dust,
It reflects sensibly about the earth
While bathing in dark mystical must.
Своеначальный, жадный ум, —
Как пламень, русский ум опасен
Так он неудержим, так ясен,
Так весел он — и так угрюм.
Подобный стрелке неуклонной,
Он видит полюс в зыбь и муть,
Он в жизнь от грезы отвлеченной
Пугливой воле кажет путь.
Как чрез туманы взор орлиный
Обслеживает прах долины,
Он здраво мыслит о земле,
В мистической купаясь мгле.
«A boy said to me: "How painful it is!" / And it’s a great pity with him. / Just a short while ago he was content, / Having only heard about sorrow. And now he knows all of it, no less / Than you, wise and old, do. / Dimmed and, it seems, already became / So the pupils of blinding eyes...»
«Dying, I pine over immortality. / Low is the cloud of dusty mist. / Least let it be the naked red devils, / Least let it be a vat of rank tar. Crawl on to me, beguile, / Ye threats from crumbling books. / Only leave me my memory, / Only the memory at the last moment. So that in the har...»
«Just as before: in the canteen windows / Beats the fine blizzard snow. / And I myself haven’t become new, / Yet a man used to come to me. I asked: "What is it you want?" / He answered: "To be with you in hell". / I laughed: "Ah, you shall augur / Disaster for both of us, possibly". B...»
«My lips approaching / Your lips, / Mysteries happening again, / And the world like a temple. We, like priests, / Create the rite. / Sternly in the great abode, / Words resound. Angels, falling prostrate, / Sing the tropa...»