Описание:
It is necessary to live without imposture,
So to live, that eventually
To involve in oneself love of space,
And to hear the call of future.
Others close in the tracks
Step by step will pass your way,
But you should not distinguish
Your defeat from your victory.
Of a bad bargain make the best,
Yet keep hoping in any case.
Dare you to be glad, delighted and happy
At every instant of eternity!
To depend on the king or on the people,
What difference does it make?
And isn't that to us the same?
To hell with them!
Antonio Salieri (1750-1825)
They always say: there’s no justice in the world,
But there’s no one in the beyond.
I can see that with the utmost clarity,
As if it were a common scale.
Born with the love of art
I can remember as being yet a child
How the sweet tears were involuntarily
Streaming down my cheeks
While in our ancient church
On Easter Sunday I listened with delight
When the organ sounded in the exultant style...
A genius in his own virtue and
A crime are two incompatible things.
Nobody will give you Salvation,
Neither Lord, nor a hero or a king.
And let I will be lost tomorrow
In the unequal fight -
From the best of you
I did learn to die.
A fool saw in it the fool, a sage did see the sage,
But when to it small Jack Ducker was brought,
Then in it the little shaggy slovenly one he had seen.
As the unsolved secret,
In her the live charm breathes-
We look tremblingly and disturbingly
On the quiet light of her eyes.
Whether is there in her the worldly
Glamour or the heavenly happiness?
To her the soul would wish to pray,
Still the heart strive to adore...
Oh, how our love is murderous,
How in the wild blindness of passions
We rather ruin that what for our hearts
Is the most lovely or the dearest!
I ask you, my sadness,
Even if for a while to leave me.
As if you were a cloud, the blue-gray cloud,
Just fly away to my distant home.
My coast, please appear in the distance
In the form of an edge or a thin line.
My coast, coast tender,
Ah, to you native one I hope to reach,
To reach, though sometime.
Somewhere away
It’s during sunshine raining.
Right by the river, in a small garden
Cherries have ripened.
Somewhere away,
In my memory now,
It’s warm, as in the childhood,
Though memory is covered
By such big snow.
You, thunder-storm,
Give me to drink until I’ll grow
Dead intoxicated, but not to the death.
Here again, as if it were in the final time,
I keep looking somewhere in the sky,
As though an answer I searched…
I ask you, my sadness,
Even if for a while to leave me.
As if you were a cloud, the blue-gray cloud,
Just fly away to my distant home.
Still I'm languished with melancholy of desires,
Still with my soul I aspire to you-
And in the twilight of recollections
Still I catch your sweet image...
Your lovely unforgettable image,
It's everywhere, always in front of me,
Incomprehensible, invariable one,
As at night in the sky a star...
Lord bless you, the soul which is fully yielded to
Exclusively a treasured sacred love
And only with it alone aches and breathes.
I love your eyes, my dear,
With their ardent wonderful playing,
When them like a lightning
You all of a sudden lift up
And take a view around.
But there is no a charm more stronger
Than the lowered down eyes
During minutes of passionate kissing,
When through the eyelashes
The dim gloomy fire of desire flickers.
In the quiet garden a nightingale has become silent;
Drops in the gloom from branches are falling;
It smells by the scent of bird-cherry trees blooming...
Could there be in anything more warmth and light than in the word mum?
Is there anything in the world more sacred and tender?
She is the dearest and the loveliest being!
Her hands and eyes are full of both love, kindness and happiness.
Thoughtful and alone
I by the earth will pass to nobody known
And if only before my death
To awakening having suddenly come
The world shall learn it are to lose of whom.
My darling, you know, on the earth there is not
The stable happiness: neither a noble family,
Nor beauty, any power or richness,
Nothing can pass a trouble,
And also you and I, sweetheart,-isn’t that so?
We were happy, at least I did
By you and with your love.
Whatever may happen with me in future,
Wherever may I be, I’ll always remember you,
My dear; I lose you now and nothing in the world
Will ever be like you to me.
For you, the queens of my soul,
Only for you, the beauty,
To the whisper of the old talkative days
The fables of the immemorial times
By my confident hand
In golden leisure I wrote.
Accept the playful work!
Without demanding praises
I am happy with the alone sweet hope
That at my sinful songs
A maid filled with the thrill of love
Will have a look perhaps on sly.
-What did you bring me?
-Nothing. Well, a mere trifle.
By insomnia the other night
I was oppressed and two
Or three ideas crossed my mind.
Today I’ve sketched them.
I wanted to hear your opinion,
But now apparently you are not up to me.
Cleopatra and her lovers.
I swear… oh, mother of pleasures,
My service to you is unprecedented.
On the bed of passionate temptations
As some simple mercenary I ascend.
Hear then, the powerful Venus and you,
Underground deities of the terrible Hades,
I swear, yet by the dawn my masters’ desires
With all secrets of kissing
And with the marvelous bliss
I will voluptuously satisfy.
However, as soon as the purple
Of eternal Aurora will flash,
I swear-under the mortal axes
The heads of the lucky dogs are to fall.
No, I do not esteem the rebellious happiness,
Sensual ecstasy, madness and frenzy,
Groaning, shouting of the young bacchante,
When, wriggling and coiling up in my hugs like a snake,
With the blast of ardent caresses and the ulcer of kisses
She hurries a sweet instant of the last lovely vibrating!
Oh, my meek, what you are the difference!
Oh, what the painful pleasure you grant me,
When you are cold and shy,
Tender but without any excitement,
To my long entreaties yielding,
You give yourself up to me, to my delight
Hardly responding, without anything heeding,
Then you grow more and more lively
And here at last against your will
You share my fever with me!
The rush of times incessantly ravishes all human deeds and sinks into abyss of oblivion every nation, realm and king. Yet if anything eulogized and praised with either the trumpet or the lyre has been left, but then even that shan’t escape of the common destiny and shall be inevitably gluten by the unmerciful funnel of eternity.
A little golden cloud spent the night on the front
Of the rock as big as a giant,
Early in the morning it away had drifted
In the azure sky cheerfully playing;
However a wet trace has remained in a wrinkle
Of the old ogre. Now the pensive cliff lies
Wholly alone and on the sly it’s crying.
In the ocean of Love a turtle swims which is called Happiness. On its shell three white elephants stand, their names are Meekness, Forgiveness and Clemency. Our world of tears and rain, where grief is ruling and reigning, lies in the lie on their spines. It’s a pity, of course, but cant be helped. All such as it is we are to try accepting with favor.
-'I don’t wish any gold, it’s only the truth that I really seek’.
-’To hell with truth, really, what I need it’s only gold’.
In the answer on that the old sage speaks to the youth:
-’To each his own’.
So that to believe in God one by no means
Has to show oneself off to be righteous,
But more often we observe the opposite-
Disbelief they endeavor to conceal with bigotry
Only revealing despair of their souls.
The hardhearted is weaker than the gentle,
And fear lives in the soul of the one
Who is overwhelmed with passions.
There is an ecstasy both in fight
And on the edge of the gloomy chasm,
And at the furious ocean,
Amid the terrible waves and rough obscurity,
And in the Arabian hurricane,
And also in the whiff of the plague.
I’m not sorry, don’t call or cry,
All will pass as the-of the white apple trees-smoke,
Filled with the-of withering-gold
I won’t be a young any more.
All of us in this world are perishable,
The brass of the leaves from the maples flows gently…
Be you for ever blissful
Who has come in the life
So that to blossom out and die.
I’d like to be a yellow sail in that land where we’ll sail.
Mother Nature has no bad weather,
Every weather is grace,
Hail and rain-any season of year
One with gratitude should accept.
Let’s understand all that we’ve seen,
All that has happened with us
And has became with the nation.
Also we’ll forgive all caused to us insults
On another’s and through our fault.
Face to face one whouldn’t see the opposite person.
The big and the great is seen on the distance.
Goodbye, my love, goodbye.
My darling, you are always in my mind.
Inevitable parting promises a meeting ahead.
Goodbye, beloved, goodbye!
Sitting on my laps,
Your look having taken away,
With passion you are thrilled.
My dear, it is necessary to live easier,
All accepting that exists.
To die, so to die,
Ready for all I have being lived for a long time,
Nevertheless I thank for everything the life.
He’s happy, who has decorated his life
With the wanderer’s bag and staff.
He’s blest who with the miserly joy,
Living without any friend or a foe,
Praying on the stacks and the shocks,
Will pass along a country road.
I can remember the wonderful instant:
When in front of me you appeared,
As a transient fleeting vision,
Like some genius of the pure beauty.
In depression of the grief hopeless,
In troubles of the noisy vanity
To me long the gentle tender voice sounded
And also the lovely sweet features dreamt ardently.
There passed years. Of the storms an impulse rebellious
Had dispersed all my former dreams,
I had completely forgotten your voice gentle
And also your heavenly features.
In solitude, in the gloom of exile,
My days without life lasted sadly,
Without a muse and a deity,
Without tears and love.
To my soul has come awakening:
And here you again has appeared,
As a transient fleeting vision,
Like some genius of the pure beauty.
And now my heart beats in ecstasy,
And for it again have revived
Both a muse and a deity,
And life, and tears, and love.
I loved you: my love perhaps still
In my soul has died away not absolutely;
But let it any more does not disturb you;
I don’t wish you to grieve with anything at all.
I loved you hopelessly in silence
Now quailing, now being jealous;
I loved you so sincerely and gently,
As may God grant you to be favorite by another.
Only since my lyre arouses good feelings
People shall be for ever pleased with me,
Because in my severe time I adored Freedom,
And to mercy regarding the wretched called.
Oh muse, without fearing insults,
Without demanding a laurel wreath
Praise and slander accept indifferently,
To Providence without fail be obedient
And also don’t challenge a fool.
The alone whitish sail is being seen in the mist of the blue sea.
What does it seek in that strange and distant land?
What has it already lost in its own native land?
The waves are heaving, the wind is whistling
And the mast with a squeak is getting bend.
Alas,- the sail does not strive for happiness
And it’s really not happiness that it does abandon.
Under it there is the -clearer than the azure- stream,
Over it there are the solar golden rays,
Still, the restless sail looks for only the tempest,
As if the tempest had a rest.
How much better to live
To that, my dear fellow,
Who is not ill with stupid passions,
Who has no time to fall in love,
Who is busy with all
Or who is pleased with everything.
He knows neither grief nor sorrow;
His fun is endless and infinite,
Carefree one, having created
Mentally his own seraglio,
He is blissfully happy in it.
Lord is perception and Love is His the loveliest face.
Make light of yourself and
Still be aware of your worth.
Blest are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
I speak to you, America,
The broken away half of land,-
In the seas of ungodliness be afraid
And fear to launch the iron craft!
It’s hard to wear the heavy crown of the ancient monarch.
My Lord, still who are to reign and rule the nation?
That’s more than not too old legend, but one believe it not.
I did meet you and all the past in my died away heart has revived,
I remembered a golden time, it's become so warm for my heart...
As if in the late fall it time from time happened the days or some hours,
When it suddenly wafts in the spring and something within us stirs.
Thus, wholly shipped in atmosphere of those years of spiritual fullness,
With for a long time forgotten ecstasy I look at these lovely features.
As though after centuries of separation I stared at you as if in a dream,
And here-the sounds never resting in me became more clearly audible.
This is not mere remembrance, that's life began talking again,
And now the same to us glamour and also the same love in my soul.
Vyacheslav Checkanov
http://www.bigextracash.com/aft/ebbecfcf.html
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