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    Английский (English)
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There hasn’t been a transformation...

Нет, ничего не изменилось…

There hasn’t been a transformation
In nature’s poor and simple state,
But wonderful illumination
In boundless beauty’s stirred of late.

Our feeble human flesh will doubtless
When dawns the hour appear like this,
When out of the enormous darkness
With judgement calls the Lord of bliss.

So, know my friend so proud and tender,
With you and only you alone,
With red-haired snow-white form so slender
I came into my very own.

And, oh, you smiled my lovely darling,
And you then did not understand
How much you shone, what darkling, snarling,
grim shadow wrapped you with its band.

А вот еще:

Creation

My words spawned giants, / and they sat guzzling wine / all night, crimson wine, / horrible wine. / / I would not have known such weariness / had they been drinking my blood; / Dawn’s fingers were running across / my back when I fell asleep. / / I woke when it was evening...

Stockholm

I dreamed of Stockholm: why? / A restless, troubled dream / sprung from some different time, / almost a nightmare - almost... / / A holiday, maybe: who knows? / The bell kept clanging, that bell, / like a huge organ gone mad, / and a whole city praying, buzzing, roaring... / / ...

Sweden

Land of quick cold, / of forests and heavy-backed mountains, where / rumpled waterfalls / roar like prophets of doom - / / Sacred land, sacred forever, / do you still remember / when your grim-faced Varangians / went out across Europe to Greece? / / Is it right ? Can it be righ...

You and Me

Sure, I’m not good enough, / I come from the provinces, / I don’t strum a guitar / but blow an old reed flute. / / I don’t read poems in velvet rooms and red-plush / halls, to dark dresses and starched black coats; / I read to waterfalls, I read to dragons, / I rea...

Ice Floes and the River Neva

Transparent spring green / was sprouting on the islands - / but no, the Neva’s fickle, / and turns gloomy in a flash. / / On the bridge: look. / Ice floes jumping, green / like copper poison, / rustling, as terrible as snakes. / / Our dreams sweat, and labor; a geographer...

Сhildhood

I loved the great meadows / and their honey scent / and clumps of trees, and dry grass / and bull’s horns in the grass. / / Every dusty bush along the road / shouted, "I’m playing with you! / Walk around me, watch out, / and you’ll see who I really am!" / / On...