by Boris Pasternak
Мчались звезды. В море мылись мысы.
Слепла соль. И слезы высыхали.
Были темны спальни. Мчались мысли,
И прислушивался сфинкс к Сахаре.
Плыли свечи. И казалось, стынет
Кровь колосса. Заплывали губы
Голубой улыбкою пустыни.
В час отлива ночь пошла на убыль.
Море тронул ветерок с Марокко.
Шел самум. Храпел в снегах Архангельск.
Плыли свечи. Черновик "Пророка"
Просыхал, и брезжил день на Ганге.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stars were racing; waves were washing headlands.
Salt went blind, and tears were slowly drying.
Darkened were the bedrooms; thoughts were racing,
And the Sphinx was listening to the desert.
Candles swam. It seemed that the Colossus'
Blood grew cold; upon his lips was spreading
The blue shadow smile of the Sahara.
With the turning tide the night was waning.
Sea-breeze from Morocco touched the water.
Simooms blew. In snowdrifts snored Archangel.
Candles swam; the rough draft of 'The Prophet'
Slowly dried, and dawn broke on the Ganges
Last updated January 14, 2019