Три послания - 1, перевод А. Блока

To V.

1

And still remembers the sighs of oar
My shoulder, so blissfully excited...
Under your look, escaping though,
I surely had thoughts of nothing...

Your movements bashful, timid,
And the rudder, wrongly turned...
To white nights there a great ship
Is sailing as a phantom...

And there in the clear sea
The schooner bodies are seen...
And gold of sunrise fleetly sweeps
The aimless path, the aimless bind-weed...

28 May 1908