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    Английский (English)

I and You

Я и Вы

Yes, I come from another country,
To your world I can never belong.
Tinkling guitars cannot please me,
I want a wild desolate song.

I do not read my verses in drawing-rooms
To black-coats and dresses like shrouds.
I read my verses to dragons,
To the waterfalls and to the clouds.

I love like an Arab in the desert
Who flings himself on water and drinks,
Not like a knight in a picture
Who looks at the stars and thinks.

I shall not die in a bedroom
With a priest and a lawyer beside me.
I shall perish in a terrible ravine
With a mass of wild ivy to hide me.

I shall not go to a Protestant heaven,
Open to all in tidy blue skies,
But to a place where thief and publican
And harlot will cry: “Friend, arise!”

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The Octave

No whisper of a midnight distance, / Nor when a mother sang a tune - / We've never understood an instance, / Which's worth being better understood. / The symbol of the Father's greatness - / A kind of gracious advice - / To you, the Poet, is presented: / Your tongue is tied, your speec...

War

To M. M. Chichagov / / Like a dog that strains on heavy halter / Rifle yaps across the forest now, / Bee-like, buzzing shrapnel doesn’t falter, / Gathering bright red honey from the bough. / / In the distance, though, "Hurrah" is sounding / Like the reapers’ singing wh...

The tip of willow tree was blackened...

The tip of willow tree was blackened, / For rooks protruded from its crown, / In azure sky-dale there they slackened - / The sheepish clouds grazed on its down. / And you, with gaze of resignation, / Announced: "I am in love with you." / Like sea was grass’s oscillation, / At one...

Evening

How thick, how wingless an evening! / A sunset like a cracked melon. / / You almost want to shove / those limp clouds along. / / Slow evenings like this, / coachmen whip their horses to a gallop, / / Fishermen tear at the waves with their oars, / woodsmen chop like mad / / ...

It Wasn’t Living

It wasn’t living, I wasted / half my life / - and then, Lord, You came to me / like this, in an impossible dream. / / I see light on Mount Tabor / and my heart hurts / with love for the land and the sea / and the whole tree-dark dream of existence, / / My heart hurts tha...

Did I Murder My Father

Did I murder my father, murder my mother, / in some other life ? / Yes, oh immortal, eternal God, yes! or how / could I deserve this disgrace of suffering? / / I lead a life as peaceful as death, / everything I do belongs to someone else, nothing / to me-except a languid, worthless, /...