‘I Still Find Charm In Little Accidental Trifles…’ by Georgy Ivanov

I still find charm in little accidental

trifles, empty little things –

say, in a novel without end or title,

or in this rose, now wilting in my hands.

 

I like its moiré petals, dappled

with trembling silver drops of rain –

and how I found it on the sidewalk,

and how I’ll toss it in a garbage can.

 

by Георгий Владимирович Иванов (Georgii Vladimirovich Ivanov)

(1956)

translated by Boris Dralyuk

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To Her by Vasily Zhukovsky

Where’s there a name for you?

No mortal’s art has the power

to express your charm.

 

Nor are there lyres for you!

Songs? Not to be trusted –

the echo of a belated rumour.

 

If they had ears for the heart,

every one of my senses

would be a hymn to you.

 

I carry your life’s charm,

this pure, holy image,

like a mystery in my heart.

 

All I can do is love;

only eternity can speak

the love you inspire.

 

by Василий Андреевич Жуковский (Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky)

(1811)

translated by Robert Chandler


 

Fun fact: Ivan Bunin, the Nobel Prize winning Russian emigre author, is related to him.