Встречной - перевод А. Блока

To woman, passed by...
By Alexander Blok

I'm only a bachelor and poet,
The scion of the north scald...
But your man carries always the tome of Wild,
The scotland plaid, the painted vest...
Your husband - is the scornful easthete.

He may be scoffing of surmise a lot,
Without limits, he is following,
Whom you greet to, whom bow to...
Gor me... Now his chimeras don't mean
Any a matter! I love you!

With chasubles of treachery, of lie,
Of flattery - you're apparelled...
Say me today, the faithful wife,
Did you feel shiver from a secret love?
Were you once with a feeling catched?

And did your sleepy, jealous, awkward spouse
Whisper to you: "Let's go, friend...",
Having wrapped up you in a green plaid
In order to shield you from snows
In Petersburg one winter day?

And wasn't your eye so tricky, longing
After a ball, when you draw off
The airy dress from your slope shoulders,
Having been poisoned lightly all
By dancing with a feel of love?

2 June 1908