Unquenchable thirst of love…

During the starry sleepless nights,
The serenades are sung for Her.
But under cloak the blade does blur
Blood flows as scarlet as the wine.

The Love, the treachery's strong ally
And such al luring as naiads
Seduces us to escapades
And passion's cup becomes so dry

With no regard to young and senior…
But happy is the one, who did surrender!

Sonnet 151

Seems like the gift I hear your voice:
The art of note and speech around:
In Forerunner's mouth how did you sound!
How did you wake the hearts' rejoice!

And young and old were rise by feet,
And they were going under shells:
Rumor was like a furnace flames,
How did you kindle ardent heat!

The Christ, The Circe, Demosthenes,
Grand Opera, La Scala, Covent Garden…
The ship was lead right on the rigs so hardened,
When helmsman heard the Sirens' sing… —

You really have ambrosian treat!
But I love most your voice's being sweet…

Sonnet 152

My eyes! What's for your roaring crying?!
Why so much salt humidity in you?!
You didn't pass Butyrka, Gulags too…
Who is your punisher, who is defying?!

Oh, heart! Where do you rush tantivy?
By strike of sword it's felt such pain!
What kind of blood turns red… on paper's stain?
– Where is this dawdler doctor?! Hurry, do actively!

And why is my brain now so inflamed?
What woe does bother his poor mind?
His mind just cannot bear it, it's bind.
Like Hamlet I'm, by madness, tamed!

How can I overthrow tyranny power?!
That's what you've done to me – the fervor…

Sonnet 153

End of the battle, the fighting roar faded:
The last redoubts are yield to enemy —
Within some minutes everything was destined —
The scalade was so rampant and so dashing!

The hero fought with courage of the three
And being captured tried to break the tether:
His veins were swollen of such efforts! —
Such metaphors're tremendous as can be.

That's the result: defeated and so mean,
He was much calmer, than a little lamb:
Inside his nostrils they put rings
He went so humble behind them.

That one's insane, who once confronted feelings
I gave my all to you, no armour concealing…

Sonnet 155

The frantic flame was burning down
And fire tumbled as if in rage.
And not so less was all its power:
Each moment made it fade away.

As if a hungry wolf, it used to tear
All that it could get into its jaw,
And all was turning into smoke
With which the soul was seared…

Thus, everything burned down to ashes:
And there was left only some embers —
A gulp of water in the thimble:
Though ashes still so slightly glimmered…

I poked it – and it suddenly appeared:
The passion's burnt, but love is here

Sonnet 185

And poetry, and nature, and truelove… —
I have divided between you the year.
Look: all the words are feminine here:
For still with women I'm in love!