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[1930s]

607. Георгий Иванов (1894–1958). Разрозненные строфы

It's yes and no. A star on high burns bright a hundred thousand years. The star burns bright. The years go by, and so an era disappears. There is no joy. The world is still and sad, and through the icy sting of the ethereal spaces, spring, carrying roses in her hand, flies to the sad and silent land.

24 June 1961

608. Георгий Иванов (1894–1958). «Меня влечет обратно в край Гафиза…»

The land of Hafiz calls me back, to rove where my Gulnara's gaze shone green and bright, and tentwise over her and me above was spread the sapphire chasuble of night. And memory, deprived of all these things, looks everywhere for landmarks of that vale where waits the lute, forsaken, and where sings to ageless rose, an ageless nightingale.