Весь день - как день... - пер. А. Блока

And all day - is like day: is filled with a simple work
And simple affairs...
Their chain is unnecessarily floating
By and by the tired eyes.

You are in a trouble, - and in the deep - obedient:
Will they be vain - let it be so.
On bottom of your soul, sad and black -
Are disbelief and sorrow.

To evening time the chain will release
From the day's cares stream.
But when the capital would gaze in darkness,
And the midnight would sing -

I'd like to sleep,but - an awful minute!
Among the other ustling thoughts -
The senselessness of all the work, the useless
Of comfort will then enter court.

The silent melancholy will grasp your throat:
Of no - "Oh!", of no - breath.
As if the night had spreaded its curse,
As if the devil has sat on the breast!

And you do jump and run on streets,
But nobody could help:
Wherefo you are turning face - you see
By empty eyes - the night itself.

There the wind will groan with you on drafts
Untill a pale dawn;
And the gorodovoi, in order not not to fall asleep, will drive
(* gorodovoi - the old russian name of a policeman)
The tramp from fire burning...

At last, the desired weariness will come,
And everything will become equal...
What? Conscience? Truth? Life?
What a little! Isn't it ridiculous?

11.02.1914