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Зимняя ночь

< Boris Pasternak - Winter Night
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I Am a Russian, You Are a Georgian I Am a Russian, You Are a Georgian
Ах, Одесса, жемчужина у моря Ах, Одесса, жемчужина у моря
Ах, Самара-городок Ах, Самара-городок
Ах, подруга, подружка, подруженька! Ах, подруга, подружка, подруженька!
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Мело, мело по всей земле
Во все пределы.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

Как летом роем мошкара
Летит на пламя,
Слетались хлопья со двора
К оконной раме.

Метель лепила на стекле
Кружки и стрелы.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

На озаренный потолок
Ложились тени,
Скрещенья рук, скрещенья ног,
Судьбы скрещенья.

И падали два башмачка
Со стуком на пол.
И воск слезами с ночника
На платье капал.

И все терялось в снежной мгле
Седой и белой.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

На свечку дуло из угла,
И жар соблазна
Вздымал, как ангел, два крыла
Крестообразно.

Мело весь месяц в феврале,
И то и дело
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.

Snow, snow the whole world over,
Sweeping it, end to end.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.

Like a crowd of summer midges
flying to the flame,
droves of snowflakes swarmed
against the window pane.

Snow-blasts moulded circles,
arrows on the glass.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.

Against the ceiling’s brightness
dark shadows falling,
crossed ankles, crossed wrists,
destinies crossing.

And two shoes dropped
with a thud to the floor,
and waxen tears dropped
from candle to dress.

And in the grey-white, snowy
darkness, all was lost.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.

A draught from the corner
blew: temptation’s heat
raised, like an angel,
a crucifix of wings.

Snow all through February,
and time and again
the candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.

Tony Kline


Snowed far and wide about the plane.

Snow clouded, whirling.
A candle's burning on the table.
A candle's burning.

The flakes were messing outside
By window's framing
As if they were a swarm of flies
Allured by a flame glint.

The snow was shaping whorls and blades
Upon glass surface.
A candle's burning on the table.
A candle's burning.

And shadows slowly played against
The lit up ceiling –
Entangled arms, entangled legs,
Entangled being.

Two shoes fell slipping slowly down
With muffled rattle.
Wax tears were dropping on the gown,
Down from the candle.

All waned away in snowy haze,
Now grey, now hoary.
A candle's burning on the table.
A candle's burning.

The draft was swaying flame away.
The heat of coaxes
Was raising in an angel way
Two pinions, crosswise.

It snowed each February day
With always there being
A candle, burning on the table.
A candle. Burning.

Slava Chetin


Blizzards were blowing everywhere

Throughout the land.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.

As midgets in the summer fly
Towards a flame,
The snowflakes from the yard swarmed to
The window pane.

And, on the glass, bright snowy rings
And arrows formed.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.

And on the white illumined ceiling
Shadow were cast,
As arms and legs and destinies
Fatefully crossed.

Two slippers fell on to the floor
With a light sound,
And waxen tears dripped from the candle
On to a gown.

No object in the misty whiteness
Could be discerned.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.

A mild draught coming from the corner
Blew on the candle,
Seduction's heat raised two wings crosswise
As might an angel.

It snowed and snowed that February
All through the land.
A candle burned upon the table,
A candle burned.
Alex Miller