The message to Yury Verkhovensky
The rain is small, the talk is slow,
From cilinder a lock of hair’s seen,
The laugh is light, and some – unhallowed.
Is that a usual meeting?
But here – one of the lightest geniuses
With a hazy torch in his hand
Brought gift of your’s into my dwelling,
Where I am anxious and sad.
Through rustle of autumn, autumn chilling
I recollect you, I love so
In all marks of the new beginning
In old and melancholy drawing.
We had a laugh, a joke and trick,
At least we all should sail forever
Through quick and fast and lanquid idyll
To night, into the mournfull elegy.
September 1910
You May Also Like:
- A.Blok, Not After That… – Translation(Rus.)
- A.Fet, A Butterfly – Translation(Rus.)
- I.Tsaryov, Between Black And White – Translation(Rus.)
- M.Tsvetaeva, In The Luxembourgh Garden – Translation (Rus.)
- A.Tvardovsky, And I’M Aware… – Translation (Rus.)
- A.Blok, There Evening As… – Translation (Rus.)
- B.Okudzhava, Good-Buy, Boys – Song – Translation (Rus.)
- A.Blok, I Change One Execution For Another… – Translation (Rus.)
Leave a Reply