Резултати претраге страна 14

Their Way of Life

Why do they live, what do they think,
What do they gain by wild careening?
They drink and eat, then eat and drink -
In vain pursuits they find life's meaning...
 
To cheat, to cash in, to defile,
To rob one blind, to hurt, to humble...
What other passion could they style?
For that's enough for them to stumble!
 
And all these, walking on two feet,
The so-called humans, so-called people -
That's 'how they live'... I must admit,
For these, steeped in vile whoredom, sheeple
The name of Blok1 is senseless bleat...
 

• 1. Alexander Blok - famous Russian symbolist poet.
  http://lyricstranslate.com/en/alexander-blok-lyrics.html

Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

Nocturne (Coddling Night Sleep...)

Coddling night sleep, dusk of day turns lilac blue.
And the heart turned into trap for mind anew.
 
Just as I think back of you, I'm drawn to you.
I am sure you see all my thoughts right through.
 
Whether I want or I don't - I walk to you,
Wordless... And the West is sad and lilac blue.
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

Prelude (Shadows of Moonlight - Shadows of Sorrow...)

Shadows of moonlight - shadows of sorrow -
Silently wander on foot.
Wander in Earth veil as black as great dolour,
Trace ghostly trail barefoot.
 
They rocked so many, so lovingly followed,
Keenly reflected mindset...
Shadows of moonlight, shadows of sorrow
Will sleepwalk my silhouette!
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.

Nocturne (Crescent Moon Strokes Willow Reed...)

Crescent moon strokes willow reed
Through the tents of lilac tweed...
All is soul, no one gives heed.
 
All is deity and dream,
Mystery of secret scheme,
Fete of life's eternal stream.
 
Grove's like reed from fairy tale,
Reed's like forest-tot, so frail.
Calm's as life, and life is tame.
 
Dense fog wavers like hot steam,
Like delusion of my dream,
Like the past affair gleam...
 
Oh, how fragrant in spring breeze
Bloom of snow-white apple trees...
Not a soul, yet soul's at ease!
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
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A Short Elegy

She calmly stood up on her tiptoes,
Then gave her lips to me and kissed.
I kissed her wearily on lips rose
In silence of the autumn mist.
 
And tears dripped without sound
In silence of the autumn mist.
The dull day waned, by boredom bound,
Like all things that in dreams we missed.
 
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Classic Roses

How beautiful, how fresh the roses were in
My garden yard! Oh, how they charmed my gaze!
Oh, how I begged the spring night frosty weather
To never touch them with the cold hand graze!
I.P. Myatlev, 1843.
 
In those times when sweet dreams swarmed in the air,
Engaged the hearts of people with plain truths,
How beautiful, how fresh the roses were then,
So full of my love, glory, and spring youth!
 
The years have passed, and tears flow everywhere...
My homeland's gone with all who lived thereon...
How nice and fresh now roses are, I swear,
Of recollections of the days bygone!
 
Yet days march on - the storms subside already.
And Russia yearns to get back on its feet...
How sweet the roses will be, fresh and heady,
The ones my land throws in my graveyard pit!
 
Quality RU-EN and EN-RU translations by Ironic Iron.
Bringing joy of Russian music and poetry to the world.
When sharing, please thank & credit: (c) St. Sol @ LT.