<p>455. IMITATION OF HEINE
<a l:href="#c_485"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>A pine there stands in the northern wilds alone on a barren bluff,swaying and dreaming and clothed by the snow in a cloak of the finest fluff —dreaming a dream of a distant waste, a country of sun-flushed sandswhere all forlorn on torrid cliff a lovely palm tree stands.<Весна 1946><p>456. THANKSGIVING
<a l:href="#c_486"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>For everything, for everything, О Lord,I thank Thee —for the secret pangs of passions,the poisoned fangs of kisses,the bitter tasteof tears;for the revenge of foesand for the calumny of friends,and for the wasteof a soul's fervor burning in a desert,and for all things that have deceived me here.But please, О Lord,henceforth let matters be arrangedin such a waythat I need not keep thanking Theemuch longer<Ноябрь 1946><p>457. THE SKY AND THE STARS
<a l:href="#c_487"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>Fair is the evening sky,clear are the stars in the distance,as clear as the joy of an infant.Oh, why can't I tell myself even in thought:The stars are as clear as my joy!What is your trouble —people might query.Just this is my trouble,excellent people: the sky and the starsare the stars and the sky, whereas I am a man.People are enviousof one another.I, on the contrary, —only the beautiful stars do I envy,only to be in their place do I wish.<1947><p>458. THE WISH
<a l:href="#c_488"><sup>{*}</sup></a></p>Open the door of my prison,let me see the daylight again,give me a black-eyed maidenand a horse with a jet-black mane.Over the wide blue grasslandlet that courser carry me,and just once, just a little closer,let me glance at that alien portion —that life and that liberty.Give me a leaky sailboatwith a bench of half-rotten woodand a well-worn sail all hoaryfrom the tempests it has withstood.Then I shall launch on my voyage,friendless and therefore free,and shall have my fling in the openand delight in the mighty strugglewith the savage whim of the sea.Give me a lofty palacewith an arbour all aroundwhere amber grapes would ripenand the broad shade fleck the ground.Let an ever-purling fountainamong marble pillars playand lull me to sleep and wake mein a halo of heavenly visionsand the cool dust of its spray.<1947><p>Афанасий Фет
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