Мы встречались с тобой... - пер. А. Блока

Our meetings were right at a sunset,
With a paddle you cut open bay.
I loved you in that white dress, dear,
Having lost the dream's elegant way.

So strange was the silence of meetings.
And ahead - on the long sandy spit
There candles inflamed in the evening -
Somebody thought of beauty, in dream.

The collision, approach, combustion -
That the calmness of azure doesn't take...
We met right in the evening mist's passion,
Where near the shore  - ripples, cane.

No grief, no love, no offences.
All had passed, grown dim and withdrawn...
Only your slender waist, voice of requiem,
And the shine of your bright golden oar.

------
Александр Блок

Мы встречались с тобой на закате.
Ты веслом рассекала залив.
Я любил твое белое платье,
Утонченность мечты разлюбив.

Были странны безмолвные встречи.
Впереди - на песчаной косе
Загорались вечерние свечи.
Кто-то думал о бледной красе.

Приближений, сближений, сгораний -
Не приемлет лазурная тишь...
Мы встречались в вечернем тумане,
Где у берега рябь и камыш.

Ни тоски, ни любви, ни обиды,
Всё померкло, прошло, отошло..
Белый стан, голоса панихиды
И твое золотое весло.

13 мая 1902

-----
см. также
Алек Вагапов
*** 
I recall, we would date at sundown,
You would cut the lagoon with the ore.
I admired your white dressing gown 
Not revering fine dreams any more.
 
Our dates would be awkwardly silent.
Up ahead on the sandy shore 
Evening candles would light up, and someone 
Thought of beauty, about to show. 
 
Close-up, burning and intimate feeling   
Quiet azure wouldn’t partake. 
We would meet in the haze of the evening
On the shore of the rippled lake. 
 
All has vanished : love, torment, yearning,
All has faded forevermore…
Slender waist and the voices of mourning, 
Our row and your golden ore. 
 
May 13th , 1902