Poets, you should love painting!
For it alone
Can portray on canvas
Signs of an unsettled soul.
Remember how Struiskaya,
Draped in satin, looked at us
Out of Rokotov's portrait
From the depths of the past?
Her eyes were two clouds,
Half-smiling, half-weeping,
Like two lies,
Veiled by the mist of failure.
Two riddles came together,
Half-rapture, half-fright,
A touch of mad tenderness,
For it alone
Can portray on canvas
Signs of an unsettled soul.
Remember how Struiskaya,
Draped in satin, looked at us
Out of Rokotov's portrait
From the depths of the past?
Her eyes were two clouds,
Half-smiling, half-weeping,
Like two lies,
Veiled by the mist of failure.
Two riddles came together,
Half-rapture, half-fright,
A touch of mad tenderness,
An expectation of mortal pain.
When darkness descends,
And a thunderstorm threatens,
Her lovely eyes will glimmer
From the depths of my soul.
1953
When darkness descends,
And a thunderstorm threatens,
Her lovely eyes will glimmer
From the depths of my soul.
1953
Note: Fyodor Stepanovich Rokotov's (1730-1808) portrait of the
noblewoman Struiskaya now hangs in the Tretiakov Gallery.