There will be day I disappear
All be the same in empty room
A table and, of course, a chair
And simple icon I resume.
And butterfly in coloured silk
will fly under the ceiling blue
to flit to rustle and to blink
to soar to flutter there anew.
The same be bottom of the sky
to look in open window of mine,
The azure sea be still and smooth
with all its deep attracting views.
P.s. This is my translation of poem by Ivan Bunin
Above my head there is grey sky,
The wood that's bare without its cover,
Below in glade lemon leaves lie
in darkening dirt in lonely hour.
Cold noise is spreading out above,
Below is silence of the fading...
My youth's a roaming, it is rough,
And lonely thoughts in useless waiting!
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Ivan Bunin, 1889
There's wind and there's rain and there's mist
above desert waters of cold,
Here life's dead to spring, it's not pleased,
to spring, wealth of gardens is sold.
I'm alone in my bower, it's dark,
I've got easel, wind blows from the park.
Last night you were here at my place,
But you pine, because of my even life
And the end didn't gift smile for face,
Nonetheless you were seemed to me wife.
So, farewell, I will live to my spring
without wife and without wedding ring.
Today clouds do not know some rest,
They go wave by wave one by one,
Your trace near porch got wet fast,
It says that you're gone, yes, you're gone.
And it's hurt to see dark when you're lone
in that nightfall and wait for the dawn.
And I wanted to shout after you,
Please, come back, you were close for me so,
There's no past for a woman, it's true,
There's no love and you're a stranger. You know.
I'll engage fireplace having drink,
Would be good to buy dog as I think.
P.S. This is my translation of poem by Ivan Bunin
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