Attractive smiles of hers were meant
The Poet’s love to tantalize,
It wasn’t love that's backward sent
By his appriciating eyes:
It was a lovely gracious dream,
Light dream of His imagination.
It wasn't love: Apollo's beam
Served for the poet's inspiration.
А. С. Пушкину
Она улыбкою своей
Поэта в жертвы пригласила,
Но не любовь ответом ей,
Взор ясный думой осенила.
Нет, это был сей лёгкий сон,
Сей тонкий сон воображенья,
Что посылает Аполлон
Не для любви, для вдохновенья.
«God has no mercy on gardeners and reapers / And ringing, the rains fall awry / And the mosaic of wide cloaks now shimmers / In waters, that once showed the sky. The kingdom of water holds meadows and ranges, / And streams freely sing as they play, / The plums start to burst on the long sw...»
«We’re not in the forest, no need to bellow, — / Such mockery fills me with dread, / Won’t you sing lullabies in order to mellow / My wounded conscience instead? You have many other cares, / And a wife, I realize… / And the Petersburg spring stares / Deep into my withered eyes. ...»
«He was promised to me by it all: / The pleasant dream at Christmastime, / The tarnished sky of red and gold, / And Easter winds that seemed to chime, The red rods of the twigs, all nestled, / And waterfalls within the park, / And two big dragonflies that rested / Atop the fence corroded...»
«Each and every day, I get / One letter, like a bride. / I’m responding to my friend, / Writing late at night: “On my way into the dark, / I’ve stopped in white death’s den. / My dear, — don’t leave an evil mark / On another man.” And a brilliant star gleams / Between tw...»