Poem


Old rose bush, barbed, dusty, without leaves,
Sad shaking his head at the foot of a high loopholes.
It rose last magnificently blossomed yesterday morning,
Knight rose plucked, but I tore it not for the sweet.
Leaves the wind blew and carries them along the ravine,
Only left spikes, and poor bars with anger
The window slits crawl, but in vain looking for prey.
poor knight! It weeps bitter on a tower high,
Tears drops one after another, and large tears roll
Along the old wall in the suffering rose branch…

pick a flower. She will not be back. Heart is broken.
sword zaržavel, (not) asks to fight the terrible sechu,
over all. Happiness in the grave. In anguish unaccountable
Knight cries, and cries poor rose bush.
Both suffer. One lost his rose,
Rosa, alevshuyu in the bright rays of a cold morning…
Rose Another friend lost; This lush rose
Aleli brightly in the glow of love and boundless happiness…

So, yearning, languishing, they spent their time,
Night descended Do, morning eh freshened, Does the day sparkle
Joyful colors ascended, or evening boynitsu bagryanil.
Castle fell asleep. they slept, in a heavy slumber.
All was quiet. Only occasionally a stone broke
With oldness and the walls, booming, He lost in a deep ravine…

Time, in a beautiful morning, when a curious sun
got up and, silently gliding rays on the walls high,
The rose hit, - Rose opened: green shoots
Hundreds run on the prickly branches of higher and higher…
There was a dried-flower, nobody Primechenie, pale,
He opened and all shone, and bright rose
Knight in the window breathed its fragrant breath…
Knight was sleeping. On the pale cheeks was smiling,
A dream he saw a beautiful: he heard: sounds wonderful
Gracefully floated around, and darkness enveloped the earth.
Wonderful image hovered in the darkness of the bright star.
Sounds all expanded, Suddenly, small world
Poured into his soul, and once in the soul commended
invisible strings. Here marvelous melody died away,
The image in the dark to it flew, and with the hot breath
Lips touched cheeks… and the knight woke up.

Bright morning rising. With its fresh fragrance
Swept another flavor, and lush red rose
Silently nodding head out of the window through the rusty bars
old lattice…
And poor, pathetic sufferer
By Rose leaned and kissed the open flower in ecstasy,
full of happiness, hope, tender love and joy…

Spring 1898
St. Petersburg

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Alexander Blok
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