• Stranger

    From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Mon Jun 14 16:42:29 2021
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Tue Dec 20 15:54:33 2022
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Wed Feb 1 17:04:13 2023
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Sun May 21 17:05:26 2023
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Mon Jul 17 18:06:30 2023
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)
  • From Ilya Shambat@21:1/5 to All on Thu Oct 26 18:04:06 2023
    In evenings over the restaurants
    Wild and unheedful is hot air,
    And spirit of the spring entranced
    Rules drunken shouts of people there.

    Afar, above the drunken alleyway,
    Above the bored summer estates,
    With gold light luminesces the bakery,
    And cries of children resonate.

    And every even, beyond the railway gates,
    Bending their collars as they walk,
    Among the ditches, holding ladies' hands,
    Experienced jokesters stroll along.

    Above the lake screech many engines, and
    The women's shouts resound with verve
    And in the heavens, used to everything,
    The disk of moon mindlessly curves.

    And every evening, my friend singular
    From sides of glass reflects at me
    With dampness hardy and mysterious,
    Resigned and deafened just like me.

    And by the tables that are next to me
    Linger the lackeys through the night,
    "In vino veritas" shout happily
    The drunkards with the rabbits' eyes.

    And every even, in assigned hour,
    (Or is this just my dream?) a flock
    Of ladies, in silk covered,
    Strides past the window through the fog.

    And slowly, passing by the drunkards and
    Accompanied by none, alone,
    Perfume and spring fog emanating
    By side of window she sits down.

    And with the ancient creeds are blowing
    Her tight and incandescent silks,
    And hat with feathers funereal, and
    A slender arm covered with rings.

    And, spellbound with a strange closeness,
    I gaze on her dark jewelry
    And I see the enchanted coast, and
    Enchanted distance too I see.

    To me entrusted are deep secrets all,
    In my trust is somebody's sun,
    And all the facets of my soul
    Sharp wine has pierced all as one.

    And the bent feathers of an ostrich are
    Swinging in my mind, duly bent,
    And bottomless blue eyes from far
    Away bloom on the distant land.

    There is a treasure in my soul, and
    The key is given just to me!
    You are correct, you drunken monster, lad!
    I see: In wine, there's verity!

    ******

    The ladies there are flaunting fashion, and
    Each student there makes wisecracks -
    Above bored dachas, and the gardens, and
    Above the dust of sunny lakes.

    There with red fingers they are luring
    And then the evanescent dawn
    Above the dust-encrusted terminals
    Awakes suburban summer homes.

    There, where with boredom I am tormented,
    Once in a while she comes to me -
    Shamelessly luring and magnificent,
    With pride instilling modesty.

    Beyond the thick and brimming beer mugs
    Beyond the sleep of daily grind
    Shines and is visible her jewelry,
    Her eyes and features much refined

    What am I waiting for, enchanted by
    My star of happiness, anew,
    And also deafened and discomfited
    By wine, by dawn, and also you?

    Breathing the ancient creeds' material
    And with the blackest silks entwined
    Under the helmet with funereal
    Feathers, are you too deaf with wine?

    Among this lowliness incredible,
    Say, what am I to do with you -
    The one unique and unattainable,
    Like evening that with smoke is blue?

    By Alexander Blok
    Translated from Russian by Ilya Shambat
    https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)