Songs

Ona byla poetessa,
She was a poetess,
Poetessa balzakovskikh let.
A poetess d’un certain âge.
A on byl prosto povesa,
And he was just a rake,
Kurchavyi i pylkii bryunet.
A curly-haired, passionate brunet.

Povesa prishyol k poetesse:
The rake came to see the poetess:
V polymrake dyshali dukhi,
The half-light was heavy with scent,
Na sofe, kak v torzhestvennoi messe,
On the sofa, as if during a solemn mass,
Poetessa gnusila stikhi:
The poetess nasally declaimed her verses:

“O, sumei ognedyshashchei laskoi
“Oh, with your ardent caresses,
Vskolykhnut moyu sonnuyu strast.
Stir my sleeping passions.
K pene byoder za aloi podvyazkoi
To my foaming thighs, beyond the scarlet garter,
Ty ne boisya ustami pripast.
Do not fear to press your lips.

Ya svezha, kak dykhanya levkoya…
I am as fresh as perfume of scented stocks…
O spletyom zhe istomnosti tel!...”
Oh let us entwine our languid bodies…!”
Prodolzheniye bylo takoye,
What happened next was that
Shto kurchavyi bryunet prokrasnel.
The curly-haired brunet blushed.

Pokrasnel, no opravilsya bistro
He blushed, but then quickly recovered
I podumal: byla ne byla!
And thought: nothing ventured – nothing gained!
Zdes net dumskiye rechi ministra,
This is not a time for a minister’s speech in Parliament,
Ne slova tut nuzhny, a dela…
This is no time for words, but for deeds!

S nesderzhannoi siloi Kentavra
With the unbridled power of a Centaur
Poetessu povesa privlyok,
The rake drew the poetess tightly to himself,
No vizglivo vulgarnoye: “Mavra”
But a vulgar squeal of “Mavra”
Okhladilo kipuchkii potok.
Poured cold water over his ardent flow.

“Prostite!” – vskochil on. – “Vy sami…”
“Forgive me!” – he said, jumping up. “But you said…”
No v glazakh yeyo kholod i chest.
But in her eyes was nothing but froideur and propriety.
“Vy smeli k poryadochnoi dame,
“How dare you embrace an honourable lady
Kak dvornik, s obyatyami lezt?”
Like some concièrge?”

Vot chinnaya Mavra. I zadom
And here comes Mavra, prim as ever. And backwards,
Ukhodit ispugannyi gost.
The dismayed guest retreats.
V perednei rasteryannym vzglyadom
In the hallway, with a look of embarrassment,
On dolgo iskal svoyu trost.
He searched at length for his walking stick.

S litsom beleye magnezii
With a face whiter than magnesium
Shyol s lestnitsy pylkii bryunet.
The passionate brunet came down the stairs.
Ne ponyal on novoi poezii
He simply hadn’t understood the modern poetry
Poetessy balzakovskikh let.
Of the poetess d’un certain âge.