From this exhausting weakness
Nowhere to go! Nowhere to go!
Which flows around my heart
Like water! Like water!
Was it really written — (and by whom?) —
In the heavens,
That two demons, hope and fear,
Should eat into my soul?
I won't be saved, I have been struggling
For so long! For so long!
I'm sure to fall, let me reach the bottom,
But where's the bottom?
…Нет! из слабости истощающей
Никуда! Никуда!
Сердце мое обтекающей
Как вода! Как вода!
Ужель написано – и кем оно?
В небесах,
Чтоб въедались в душу два демона,
Надежда и Страх?
Не спасусь, я борюсь,
Так давно! Так давно!
Все равно утону, уж скорей бы ко дну…
Но где дно?..
«Take it easy and do not swear! / Why my words in streets should I vend? / And the red head, which I still bear, / Grew so heavy, my neck is bent. And I never had love for city, / And with village I broke a bond. / I'll give `up all without a pity, / Grow a beard, become a...»
«If from the garden, this stupid maple / Spreading his branches would fly away! / Oh, if he could behave this way, / Oh, if he only would be able! / But he 's just thickening every week, / And all is leaving, but not leaving. / What is the point to be so weak / And stay whole...»
«You lost your Russia. 'Tis the end. / Did you oppose an element / Of bliss to one of evil and dark? / No? Then shut up! Missing the mark, / Your fate has sent you to a land / Cold, not affectionate, foreign, and / Your moans and sighs there in vain. / Russia 's not free. One...»
«Bliss is in the sparkles red, / Inspirations, flying and bright, / In our dreams, subtle and light, / In your eyes, tired and sad. Woe 's no faith, but reason, / Not to trust, but just to know, / Prophets, subject to derision, / And the search of bliss is a woe.»