In a hungry and such ill captivityThere's no day as day,year as year.When will fields bring up their yielding,When will the slave-people breathe freely?In summertime,as usual,in darknessThere rustle,standing straight or bending low...

Dortoire in spring (Dormitory) (возм-но не совсем правильное написание по-фр.)by Marina TsvetaevaOh, the spring dreams which were in a dortoire,Oh, the roving among the sleeping people,And the sound of steps, purposely loud,Dreams...

When poets behind the Lyre's labirinthWill stare their eyes:Then to the left there'll be river Ind,To right side - will flow Euphrat.Between them up to this and thatWith the simplicity yet shockingEdem, which's known by the leg...

I dreamt about autumn in half-lightsOf glasses, crowd of lool-friends,And, as a falcon, taken blood from high skies,The heart was slowly descending in your hand.But time was passing by, turned old,Doomed down, silvering the frames...

The railway stationby Boris PasternakThe station is the box incombustibleOf my partings, meetings and partings,And my tested friend and the leader mine,If I begin - merits're uncountable.As common, my life was - in my scarf...

All will put on today their coatsAnd will touch the shoots of raindrops,No one will consider me, though,To be all drunken with weather foul.Leaves of raspberry will become silver,Turning with their wrong side upwards,Sun is sad...

By Boris PasternakToday at morning they will rise up,Who were the children yesterday.With swords of new calls there will be tiedThe curve of hiplines, strictly set.As soon as a tatar's cry resoundsOver the courtyard far as...

XXYYou may be businessman in a good state,But think about nails, as ever.You try to dispute with a century,But still traditions are in favour.As the second Chaadayev, my Eugene (* Chaadayev is the hero of Griboyedov's poem "G...

"Today we shall fulfil his melancholy", -May be such were the words of Meetings,Such was the shop's twighlight. And such wasThe window with an azaleas' confused dream.Such was the entrance. Such the friends were.Such was...

As with the bronze ashes a brazier,The garden is strewing bugs in dream. Along with me, with my bright candle,There hang the worlds in blossoming.And as into the faith unprecendentedI'm passing in that very night,Where a poplar...