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1809 - 1892
|Íàäåæäû íåò, ïå÷àëè ìíîãî|
All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Deepening the voice with the deepening of the night,
All along the valley, where the waters flow,
I walked with one I loved two and thirty years ago.
All along the valley, while I walked today,
The two and thirty years were a mist that rolles away;
For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed,
Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead,
And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree,
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
Íàäåæäû íåò, ïå÷àëè ìíîãî
From sorrow sorrow yet is born,
Hopes flow like water through a sieve,
But leave not thou thy son forlorn;
Touch me, great Nature, make me live.
As when thy sunlights, a mild heat,
Touch some dun mere that sleepeth still;
As when thy moonlights, dim and sweet,
Touch some gray ruin on the hill.
Ïûëü íà ìîãèëå ìîåé
Crossing the Bar
SUNSET and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
© 2001 Elena and Yakov Feldman