Вновь богатый зол... - пер. А. Блока

And again the rich is bad,
And glad also, the poor - humbled.
From the roofs of the stone mass
Of the buildings - the moon is shining.

It is sending - the queitness,
It is shaping - the steepness
Of the stone slopes,
The blackness of the walls.

All that was vainly, thus,
If there were not any tzar
To keep up the laws.
But don't search for palaces,
For industrious faces,
For the crown golden.

He - from the distant wastes
In the light of the rare lanterns
Appears.

His neck is by the shawl twisted over,
Under the shed, all in holes,
Smiles cheerly.