Признание - перевод А. Пушкина

Confession

I love thee - though I'm furious with thee,
Though it's a toil and a shame so idle.
With that unlucky folly I admit
Before thy feet, but may be it's futile!
That does not fit not to my face, nor age...
So it's a time for me to grow wiser!
But I do recognize by all marks yet -
The love disease in soul either:
I'm tedious without thee, - I gape;
I'm dreary in view of thee, - I bear;
I can't endure now - wish to say
My angel, how I do love thee, dear!

When I do hear a gown's noise,
Thy easy pace from drawing room,
Or virgin, innocent thy voice,
Then rest of mind I seem to lose.
Thee smile to me, - I'm consoled;
Thee turn away, - I fall to bore;
For one day's torment - the reward
Is your pale thin hand, no more.
When thee're assidiously sitting
Before the frame, inclined negligently, 
With eyes and hair curls turned down, - 
Being affected, I admire silently
And tenderly thee, as child!.....

How could I say about my woe,
About jealous disquietude,
When thee are going to go
So far to walk in weather foul?
And then thy tears on thy's own,
And talks in corner girls together,
And journeys to Opochka town,
And in the evening piano playing?...

Alina, please, be so pity
To me, who failed to dare love.
May that be for my inner sins 
My angel, I'm not worthy Thine!
But try to feign! This look can much
Express to me and bring felicity!
Oh, thee could thus decieve me such,
But I'm glad to be decieved!
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ПРИЗНАНИЕ.(Алине Осиповой)

Я вас люблю, - хоть я бешусь,
Хоть это труд и стыд напрасный,
И в этой глупости несчастной
У ваших ног я признаюсь!
Мне не к лицу и не по летам.....
Пора, пора мне быть умней!
Но узнаю по всем приметам
Болезнь любви в душе моей:
Без вас мне скучно, - я зеваю;
При вас мне грустно, - я терплю;
И, мочи нет, сказать желаю,
Мой ангел, как я вас люблю!

Когда я слышу из гостиной
Ваш легкий шаг, иль платья шум,
Иль голос девственный, невинный,
Я вдруг теряю весь свой ум.
Вы улыбнетесь, - мне отрада;
Вы отвернетесь, - мне тоска;
За день мучения - награда
Мне ваша бледная рука.
Когда за пяльцами прилежно
Сидите вы, склонясь небрежно,
Глаза и кудри опустя, -
Я в умиленьи, молча, нежно
Любуюсь вами, как дитя!......

Сказать ли вам мое несчастье,
Мою ревнивую печаль,
Когда гулять, порой в ненастье.
Вы собираетеся в даль?
И ваши слезы в одиночку,
И речи в уголку вдвоем,
И путешествия в Опочку,
И фортепьяно вечерком?......

Алина! сжальтесь надо мною.
Не смею требовать любви.
Быть может, за грехи мои,
Мой ангел, я любви не стою!
Но притворитесь! Этот взгляд
Всe может выразить так чудно!
Ах, обмануть меня не трудно!......
Я сам обманываться рад!

1828
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см. также

   Confession

      Oh, I love you, I'm mad with rage,
      Albeit it's shame and hopeless trouble,
      And I confess my foolish ruffles,
      I'm sitting near you, like page.
      It doesn't suit me, frankly speaking,
      It's time I have to be more keen,
      I recognize all sings of fleeting
      Disease of soul. Love, I mean.
      And I feel sad with you - I'm quiet,
      I'm bored without you - I yawn,
      I have a great and strong desire
      To say, my Angel, I'm all yours.
      And when I hear your light footfalls,
      Or virgin voice, or noise of dress
      In drawing - room before a gay ball,
      Then suddenly I lose my sense.
      You smile to me - it's a joyance,
      You turn away - I'm despondent,
      But for the day of my annoyance
      My best reward - your pale hand.
      And when you are so conscientious,
      Bend carelessly with attention
      Aloft the tambour, I enjoy
      Your curls and eyes and your attraction
      With tender silence, like a boy.
      O, may I tell about sorrows,
      My distresses and jealous grieve,
      When you are going to stroll.
      I take your last and sudden leave.
      And piano in the quiet sundowns,
      And fascinating tete-a-tete,
      And journeys to a little town,
      And after weeping you look sad.
      Alina! Take a pity on me!
      I can't require your delight,
      I don't worth your love, your sights,
      My Angel, for my sins so paltry!
      But feign, this glance so nice and deep
      Can show everything so finely,
      You easily can mystify me,
      I'm glad myself to be deceived.

      Translated by Slobodyanik Lada

и также

      I love you, though I rage at it,
      Though it is shame and toil misguided,
      And to my folly self-derided
      Here at your feet I will admit!
      It ill befits my years, my station,
      Good sense has long been overdue!
      And yet, by every indication
      Love's plague has stricken me anew:
      You're out of sight - I fall to yawning;
      You're here - I suffer and feel blue,
      And barely keep myself from owning,
      Dear elf, how much I care for you!
      Why, when your guileless girlish chatter
      Drifts from next door your airy tread,
      Your rustling dress, my senses scatter
      And I completely lose my head.
      You smile - I flush with exultation;
      You turn away- I'm plunged in gloom,
      Your pallid hand is compensation
      For a whole day of fancied doom.
      When to the frame with artless motion
      You bend to cross-stitch, all devotion,
      Your eyes and ringlets down-beguiled,
      My heart goes out in mute emotion,
      Rejoicing in you like a child!
      Dare I confess to you my sighing,
      How jealously I chafe and balk
      When you set forth, defying
      Bad weather, on a lengthy walk?
      And then your solitary crying,
      Those twosome whispers out of sight,
      Your carriage to Opochka plying,
      And the piano late at night...
      Aline! I ask but to be pitied,
      I do not dare to plead for love;
      Love, for the sins I have committed,
      I am perhaps unworthy of.
      But make believe! Your gaze, dear elf,
      Is fit to conjure with, believe me!
      Ah, it is easy to deceive me!...
      I long to be deceived myself!

      Translated by Katharena Eiermann
      
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и еще 
      
Вячеслав Четин

I love you, though I always kid, –
A venture futile, though, and shaming,
And this afflictive misbehaving
I am conceding at your feet.

I ought to be more apt and staid...
It’s time, it’s time I were on guard!
But I can tell by every trait
The stroke of passion in my heart:

Without you, I am bored – I yawn;
I’m sad beside you – I subdue;
I’d burst I want to let you know
How much, my angel, I love you!

Each time I hear your airy footstep
Or garments’ rustle in the lounge
Or else your voice, angelic, youthful,
I loose my senses all at once.

Smile you a smile,  and I’m delighted;
Turn you aside, and I feel hurt;
And for my daily cross, the prize is
Your pallid hand and several words.

When busy with a lace-frame, patient,
You’re sitting, casually bending,
Down dropping hair curls and eyes,
I fondly, tacitly, intently
Feast eyes upon you like a child!..

Shall I confess you to my woe and
A jealous melancholy mine
When, in bad weather, to a journey
You suddenly make up your mind?

And tears of yours when you are lonely,
And twosome chats in solitude,
As well as longed for twosome journeys,
And nightly piano interludes?..

Alina, pity me, show mercy!
I dare not ask to love me, since
I acquiesce that for my sins,
My angel, I’m of love unworthy!

Be so, pretend! Your charming set
Expresses everything so cutely!
Ah, you can easily delude me!..
I’m happy to delude myself!
----

Евгения Саркисьянц
Confession (To Alina Osipova, 1826)

I am in love - though I'm incensed,
Though it's ridiculous and senseless,
And at your feet this foolish madness
I now helplessly confess.
It feels improper for my years...
It's time, it's time to grow wise!
And yet, familiar lovesick feelings   
In my poor soul I recognize:
When you're away - it's awfully boring;
When you're around - I'm sad, yet still;
But my sweet love, my tongue is burning
To tell you how you make me feel!
And should I hear from the parlor
Your graceful steps, your rustling dress,
Your voice, so innocent and lovely,
My mind becomes an utter mess.
You shine a smile - I'm filled with cheer;
You look away - I feel despair;
A day of agony and fear
Earns me your hand, so pale and fair.
When you would cautiously embroider
Your pose relaxed, hair gently curling,
Eyes down on your lacing kit, -
I sit there speechless, charmed, adoring,
And fascinated like a kid!..
Shall I reveal all my misfortune,
My jealous misery and pain,
When on a stormy day, alone,
You'd go out now and then?
When you shed tears with no one there,
Or chat in quiet with someone,
And then you're walking as a pair
And playing piano at sundown...
I beg, Alina, have some mercy!
To ask for love I have no means:
My angel, maybe for my sins
Of tender love I am unworthy,
But for a moment, make believe!
These eyes can tell it all so fondly!
Oh, to deceive me is no problem!..
I am so willingly deceived!