The Golden Ounce

Darling, you are like the golden ounce, small but precious. I need you terribly! I dream of meeting you ardently! I'll give you all my love and tenderness! I'll sing you all my songs and tell you all my fairy-tales!

Everyone chooses to one's taste

Ice Indulgence

Both a woman, a religion and a road,

To devil to serve or to the prophet -

Everyone chooses to one's taste.

Everyone chooses to one's taste

Both a foil for duel and a sword for battle.

And the word for love or for a prayer

Everyone chooses to one's taste.

Everyone chooses to one's taste

Both a shield, an armour, a staff and patches,

The quantum of definitive payment

Everyone chooses to one's taste.

Everyone chooses to one's taste

And I pick too as I am able.

To nobody I have any claims -

Everyone chooses to one's taste.

Bewitched, you are smothered with kisses,

Married to a wind in the field,

As if in the fetters you all over were chained,

My costly woman!

Neither cheerful, nor sad,

As if from the dark sky descended,

You are both my wedding song,

And my star crazy.

I shall lay my head on your lap,

I shall embrace your knees violently

I shall burn you, both sweet and bitter,

With my tears and my poetry.

Open to me your midnight face,

Let me enter into your big eyes,

Into your black orient brows,

Into your half-naked arms.

What will come, that will not go;

What won't come true, that will be forgotten...

Why are there in your eyes teas?

Or it only seems to me so?

Do not allow your soul to be idle!

So that not to beat the wind

The soul is obliged to work hard

Without a rest both day and night!

Forbid it to sleep in the bed

By the light of a morning star,

Maltreat the loafer, also

Do not take off the bridle from it!

If you take in your head

To give it indulgence

Releasing from any work, it without

A pity will strip your last shirt.

It is a slave and it is a prince,

Or it is a charwoman and a queen,

Mark my words, it must work hard

Without a break both day and night!

I look sadly at our generation!

Its future either is trivial, or is vague,

meanwhile under

the burden of knowledge and doubt,

in inactivity it will grow old.

Nearly from the cradle we are rich

in mistakes of our parents

and in their wise after event,

and the life already wearies us

like the level way

without any purpose or any aim,

as if it were a bitter feast

on another's holiday.

A lucky fish! He trifling treasures has brought to the feet of a goddess, that is why he has tasted heavenly pleasure! If I have met you before, with what satisfaction my title, my riches, I would give away everything, all for only one suitable glance; I would be the slave to your sacred will, all your whims I would studied, so that to anticipate and foresee them; so that all your life was one intriguing unceasing magical experience. Alas! - other was judged to me by my destiny.

Among the noisy ball, by accident,

In anxiety of worldly vanity,

I have seen you, but your features

Was veiled with some vague secret.

Only that your eyes looked sadly,

But your voice chimed so marvelously,

Like the tune of a remote reed pipe,

Like the noise of the surf playing.

Your slim figure was pleasant to me

As well as all your pensive appearance,

And your laughter, both sad and sonorous,

Since then in my heart sounds.

The died away fun of mad years like some wicked hang-over is heavy to me. But in my soul the grief of past days is like wine: the older, the more strong. My way is sad. The agitated sea of future has in store for me hard work and mere affliction.

Still I do not want, my friends, to die; I wish to live so that to think and suffer; after all I know, I shall have pleasures between sorrows, cares and troubles: at times again I'll be intoxicated by harmony and maybe love will give me her farewell smile.

And now here the frost is already strong

And in the fields the rime gleams like silver.

Being more tidy than the fashionable parquet

In the ice armor dressed small river shines.

The cheerful folk of boys

Are loudly cutting the ice with the skates;

On the red feet a fat goose

Having conceived to float on the bosom of water

Goes determined on the transparent ice, slides and plops;

The spiraling down joyful first snow flashes past

Like the stars on the bank falling.

And so he led a wretched life,

neither here nor there,

neither an animal nor a human being,

neither an inhabitant of the world

nor the dead phantom from the beyond...

The Golden Ounce

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