Twilight
...................
Long forgotten, under a light layer of dust,
Cherished features, you are again in front of me
And at the time of spiritual torment, we instantly resurrected
Everything that had long been lost by the soul.
Burning with the fire of shame, again they meet eyes---
One gullibility, hope, and love,
And sincere words faded patterns
From my heart to the wave that drives blood.
And I confided in a treacherous sound,
As if outside of love there is something in the world!
I boldly pushed the hand that wrote you,
I condemned myself to eternal separation
And with a cold in my chest, I set off on a long journey.
Evening
.............................
Why, with the same smile of emotion
Whisper to me about love, looking into my eyes?
The soul does not resurrect and the voice of all forgiveness,
Do not wash away these lines and a burning tear...
If you love, as I do, endlessly,
If you live in love and breathe,
Put your hand on my chest carelessly:
You will hear hearts beating under it.
Oh, don't count them! In them, by the power of magic,
Each impulse is filled with you;
So in a spring behind a stream of healing
Spins moisture hot stream.
Drink, surrender to happy minutes,
The thrill of bliss embraces the whole soul;
Drink---and do not ask with an inquiring gaze,
How soon the heart will run out, it will cool what.
Night
..............................
The night shone. The moon was full of gardens.
The rays at our feet in the living room without lights.
The piano was all open, and the strings in it trembled,
Like our hearts for your song.
You sang before dawn, exhausted in tears,
That you alone are love, that there is no other love
And, so I wanted to live so that without dropping the sound,
Love you, hug and cry over you.
And many years have passed, languid and boring,
And in the silence of the night your voice I hear again,
And it blows, as then, in the sighs of these sonorous ones,
That you are alone---all life, that you alone...in love.
That there is no resentment of fate, of destiny,
And life has no end, and there is no other purpose,
As soon as you believe in sobbing sounds,
Cries and whispers of the heart of wailing flowers.
