“To river’s edge they made their way” (“Они спустились до реки”), Nikolai Gumilev

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To river’s edge they made their way
To see the sunset glowing stronger.
But now their hair was growing grey,
Their wingless hearts could fly no longer.
The endless years had passed them by,
Those years of grief and desolation,
When neither scarlet evening sky
Nor starry nights held their fixation.
All treason now was washed away,
Forgotten were all accusations,
Now ears had they for wavelets’ play,
And nature’s wisdom’s long narrations.
And, like this pool, now crystal clear,
They’d tyranny reject for ever.
Together always, free from fear,
From fortune’s bonds they now would sever.
And in the grove, his crossbow hooked,
The offspring of fair Maytime’s graces
Now quizzically upon them looked,
Oblivious to their shining faces.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::.

Они спустились до реки
Смотреть на зарево заката.
Но серебрились их виски
И сердце не было крылато.
Промчался длинный ряд годов,
Годов унынья и печали,
Когда ни алых вечеров,
Ни звезд они не замечали.
Вот все измены прощены
И позабыты все упреки,
О только б слушать плеск волны,
Природы мудрые уроки.
Как этот ясный водоем
Навек отринут самовластье.
И быть вдвоем, всегда вдвоем
Уже не верующим в счастье.
А в роще, ладя самострел,
Ребенок, брат любимый Мая,
На них насмешливо глядел,
Их светлых слез не понимая.

Translation by Rupert Moreton

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