Исповедь, VI - пер. М. Ю. Лермонтова

VI

Look, in this prison's moistured dark
I can't see any ray of sun;
But one day I have seen the one,
Which fell on window, as luck;
And since that time between the stones,
As a worthless trace of days, so joyous,
Forgotten though, as I am,
A flower is growing pale;
But it will never blossom either,
It will dye at this place, as others;
Old father, it's fate similar to fate
Of me, unlucky, isn't that?
Know, she already might be passed ...
Know, answer will be such at last:
Go, run, call all the executors,
The bloody butchers: I am sure,
There's need now to wait?
She is not here - all's in vain!
Farewell, old chap; that is the hour
Of penalty; pray for them now...
And for the last time I'm swearing
In front of God - I'm innocent!
Say them,that I died as I could,
Without any worried mood,
About the secret, which caused death,
I have told nothing to betray...
Let you forget me in your mind,
How I did live, and I did pass,
How I existed in my life!
Whom I did so strongly love?
Oh, holy Father! What will dye
In me, with me? For peace, for life,
For the eternity itself -
My secret never I shall sell!.."
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