Белеет парус одинокий
В тумане моря голубом!..
Что ищет он в стране далекой?
Что кинул он в краю родном?..
Играют волны - ветер свищет,
И мачта гнется и скрипит...
Увы, - он счастия не ищет
И не от счастия бежит!
Под ним струя светлей лазури,
Над ним луч солнца золотой...
А он, мятежный, просит бури,
Как будто в бурях есть покой!
1832 |
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A lone white sail shows for an instant
Where gleams the sea, an azure streak.
What left it in its homeland distant?
In alien parts what does it seek?
The billow play, the mast bends creaking,
The wind, impatient, moans and sighs...
It is not joy that it is seeking,
Nor is it happiness it flies.
The blue wave dance, they dance and tremble,
The sun's bright ray caress the seas.
And yet for storm it begs, the rebel,
As if in storm lurked calm and peace!..
Translated by I.Zheleznova |
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A sail shows white at sea alone
In bright-blue brilliance of sea haze, -
What does it look for far from home?
Why did it leave its native place?
The waves play and strong wind whistles,
A mast creaks loudly and sways:
Alas, the sail doesn't look for happiness
And from it doesn't run away!
Round the sail streams are brightness,
Above it gold sun ray shines;
But it, a frantic, looks for typhoons,
As though a calm is amid ones!
Translated by A.Sirotin |
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