但有某个地方，简单生活，阳光，
温暖，艳丽又绝对清晰...
那里，一位邻居透过篱笆，轻轻地，
和一位可爱的女孩说话，只有蜜蜂能听见--
最温和地谈论着这一切。
而我们住在这儿--冷峻而劳苦的人--
接受我们相聚的仪式，悲伤，
当我们演讲时，正好一朵开花的蕾
被风折断，这寒冷疯狂的风啊。
但我们永远不会寻找一个代替品
替换这座华丽之城--我们的悲痛和奖赏--
最宽的河永远闪着刺眼的冰光，
幽暗的花园，躲避着太阳的光线
缪斯的声音若有若无。
But there’re, somewhere, the simple life and light,
Warm, gay and absolutely clear…
There, speaks a neighbor through the fences, light,
With a sweet girl, and only bees can hear –
The gentlest talking of this kind.
But here we live – the solemn ones and toilsome –
And honor rites of our meetings, sad,
When our speech, just as a bud to blossom,
Is cut by wind, the cold and mad.
But we shall never seek a substitution
For this grand city – our woe and prize –
The widest rivers’ ever glaring ice,
The gloomy gardens, hidden from beams sun’s
And the Muse voice’s slim illusion.
