Rezultatele căutării pagină 14

Prelude 1 ( I have never heard her voice sound...)

I have never heard her voice sound
And I have never known her name
…She was dressed like a witch - in crepe…
...In her eyes one could see wistful steppe…
When from church stepped on the ground
And trembled - I moaned aflame…
But I have never heard her voice sound,
But I’ve never heard her name.
 

Prelude

Versions: #2
Of Russia, to sing is like towards a temple flying
Across the woodland hills, across the flowers' carpets...
 
Of Russia, to sing is to see in a spring now
Await your bride or to console your mother...
 
Of Russia to sing is like forgetting sorrow
Like loving Love, like feeling you're immortal!
 

Don't Fly Away!

White horses run on blue sea surface,
The waves with white caps frolic wild...
You're slowly coming home in earnest -
Half-grieving and half-laughing child...
 
The smile, resembling pale pink cherry,
Escapes from your lips like a moth...
You're growing torpid, my sea fairy,
Your gaze is close yet distant troth...
 
You see an isle, a distant island,
And silken sails, and gallant prows,
In simple comfort you stay silent,
Lo! Wings spring up from under arms!
 
Don't fly away, accept my languor:
Indulge yourself in love affair...
White horses run on seas in anger,
The waves with white caps do not dare...
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

Hailstones

To Dorin-Nikolaev
 
The sky shook from the wrath of thunder,
The lightning blazed and sudden hail
Began to hop in shallow water,
Like silver grapes from fairy tale.
 
The spark of moment flew up higher,
When hot July breathed wintry cold -
For inspiration, new thoughts, fire,
For the impossible, all told...
 
I raised the glass above my shoulder, -
The thoughts were racing to extremes,
I drank the wine while glass grew colder,
As hailstones melted in juice dreams.
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

All Of Them Talk About One Thing

To S.V. Rachmaninoff
 
Nightingales in the garden of abbey,
Just like all nightingales on the earth,
Say that just one delight is not shabby,
That the greatest delight is in love...
 
And the flowers of lush abbey meadow
With caress, only flowers can give,
Say there is only one merit they know:
Touching those beloved lips to relive.
 
And the lakes in the tall abbey forest,
Overflowing with blue during flood,
Say: no gaze is more azure, more honest,
Than of those who's in love and beloved.
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.