All days are fractured as though by crime,
The passage of hoary time grows rusty,
My body's fettered with rigidity,
My heart oppressed and my blood cold as ice.
But there comes lightning: everything can change
In a prophetic dream or wide awake.
The sword of the Archangel touches me
With burning flame and I'm alive again!
Все дни изломаны, как преступлением,
Седого Времени заржавел ход.
И тело сковано оцепенением,
И сердце сдавлено, и кровь — как лед.
Но знаю молнии: всё изменяется...
Во сне пророческом иль наяву?
Копье Архангела меня касается
Ожогом пламенным — и я живу.
Пусть на мгновение, — на полмгновения,
Одним касанием растоплен лед...
Я верю в счастие освобождения,
В Любовь, прощение, в огонь — в полет!
«No, not the moon, a luminous clock face / Shines from the sky, and what is my disgrace, / That I can feel the weak star's pallid force? And loathsome to me is Batyushkov's rhyme: / They asked him here once what was the time / Eternity, he told them in response.»
«I cannot stand the rays / Of banal stars at night / Greetings, my madness old, / Gun tower's searing height. Become a whirling stone / A cobweb become instead: / The empty heaven's chest / Wound with a thinning thread. My time will come as well / Spreading the wings as I ought / Bu...»
«I take no joy in the pleasures of the strife / And nature is a graying dot today / And only in light drunkenness I may / Experience the colors of my life. / The wind is playing with a cloud immersed / An anchor falls to bottom of the sea / And breathless like a canvas under me / Soul o...»
«Let's head to village of the Tsar / Where drunken, swept by wind and free / Young men are smiling right at me / Riding on horseback high and far. / Let's head to village of the Tsar! Parks, castles, stables in a row / And on the trees are lumps of snow / And to the shouts — "be well, ...»