Servus -- Reginae
Don't call. Without any summons
I'll reach the shrine.
And droop my head in even silence
To your feet fine.
I will your orders shyly listen
And will remain
To catch our meetings, short and instant,
And wish again.
I fell before your passions' power,
Before its wave,
Sometimes -- a serf; sometimes -- a lover;
Always -- a slave.
I Prefer the Gorgeous Freedom
I prefer the gorgeous freedom,
And I fly to lands of grace,
Where in wide and clear meadows
All is good, as dreams, and blest.
Here they rice: the clover clear,
And corn-flower's gentle lace,
And the rustle is always here:
"Ears are leaning... Take your ways!"
In this immense sea of fair,
Only one of blades reclines.
You don't see in misty air,
I'd seen it!It will be mine!
The Snowy Spring Is Raging Mad
The snowy spring is raging mad,
I look away from the saga;
O, dreadful hour, when she read
The palm extended by Tsouniga.
Into his eyes she aimed her gaze,
There was mockery in her dark eyes,
The row of pearly teeth had blazed,
And I forgot all the days and midnights.
The heart got overflowed with blood,
My homeland memories erasing.
A voice would sing, 'With all your being
have to pay me back for love.'
Don't fear death
Don't fear death in earthly travels.
Don't fear enemies or friends.
Just listen to the words of prayers,
To pass the facets of the dreads.
Your death will come to you, and never
You shall be, else, a slave of life,
Just waiting for a dawn's favor,
From nights of poverty and strife.
She'll build with you a common law,
One will of the Eternal Reign.
And you are not condemned to slow
And everlasting deadly pain.
Gamajun, the Prophetic Bird
On waters, spread without end,
Dressed with the sunset so purple,
It sings and prophesies for land,
Unable to lift the smashed wings' couple...
The charge of Tartars' hordes it claims,
And bloody set of executions,
Earthquake, and hunger and the flames,
The death of justice, crime’s intrusion...
And caught with fear, cold and smooth,
The fair face flames as one of lovers’,
But sound with prophetic truth
The lips that the bloody foam covers!...
I Apprehend You...
I apprehend You. The years pass by -
Yet in constant form, I apprehend You.
The whole horizon is aflame - impossibly sharp,
And mute, I wait, - with longing and with love.
The whole horizon is aflame, and your appearance near.
And yet I fear that You will change your form,
Give rise to impudent suspicion
By changing Your familiar contours in the end.
Oh, how I'll fall - so low and bitter,
Defeated by my fatal dreams!
How sharp is the horizon! Radiance is near.
And yet I fear that You will change your form.
Those Born In Obscure Times
Those born in obscure times
Do not remember their way.
We, children of Russia's frightful years
Cannot forget a thing.
Incinerating years!, do you bring tidings
of madness or of hope?
The days of war, the days of freedom
Have left a bloody sheen on our faces.
There is a muteness - the tocsin bell
Has made us close our lips.
In our hearts, once so ardent,
There is a fateful emptiness.
Let the croaking ravens
Take flight above our deathbed -
O Lord, O Lord, may those more worthy than us,
Behold Thy kingdom!
He, who was born
He, who was born in stagnant year
Does not remember own way.
We, kids of Russia's years of fear,
Remember every night and day.
Years that burned everything to ashes!
Do you bring madness or grace?
The war's and freedom's fire flashes
Left bloody light on every face.
We are struck dumb: the toxsin's pressure
Has made us tightly close lips.
In living hearts, once full of pleasure,
The fateful desert now sleeps.
And let the crying ravens soar
Right over our death-bed,
May those who were striving more,
O God, behold Thy Kingdom's Great!
The Faithless Shadows.
The faithless shadows of day are running
And high and clear is the call of bells,
Steps of the church are blazed as with the lightning,
Their stones are alive and wait for your light steps.
You'll here pass and touch the chilly stone,
That's dressed in awful sanity of span,
And let the flower of spring be thrown
Here, in this dark, before the eyes of saint.
The rose shadows in misty darkness grow,
And high and clear is the call of bells,
The darkness lays on steps, such old and low --
I'm set in light -- I wait for dear steps.
I Wait For You...
I wait for you. The years in silence pass
And as the image, one, I wait for you again.
The distance is in flame -- and clear one as glass,
I, silent, wait -- with sadness, love and pain.
The distance is in flame, and you are coming fast,
But I'm afraid that you will change your image yet,
And will initiate the challenging mistrust
By changing features, used, at long awaited end.
Oh, how I will fell -- so low and so pine,
Unable to overcome my dreams' continued set!
The distance is such bright! And azure is so fine!
But I'm afraid that you will change your image yet.