In the sunrise don’t bother her rest,
In the sunrise her sleep is so sweet,
Morn will lazily breathe on her breast,
Blush her cheeks with the glow of its heat.
And her pillow is hot from her sleep,
And her sleep is so languid and tight,
And her braids, like two streams running deep,
On her shoulders run black as the night.
And last eve by the window alone
She in quietude sat, and her eyes
Watched the moon as it playfully shone
Through the clouds in the changing night skies.
As its light brightened up the night skies
To the chime of a nightingale's song,
She turned paler, and sad were her eyes,
And her heartbeat was painfully strong.
That is why her young innocent breast
And her cheeks are so glowing with heat.
So don’t wake her, don’t bother her rest,
In the sunrise, her sleep is so sweet!
***
На заре ты ее не буди,
На заре она сладко так спит;
Утро дышит у ней на груди,
Ярко пышет на ямках ланит.
И подушка ее горяча,
И горяч утомительный сон,
И, чернеясь, бегут на плеча
Косы лентой с обеих сторон.
А вчера у окна ввечеру
Долго-долго сидела она
И следила по тучам игру,
Что, скользя, затевала луна.
И чем ярче играла луна,
И чем звонче свистал соловей,
Всё бледней становилась она,
Сердце билось больней и больней.
Оттого-то на юной груди,
На ланитах так утро горит.
Не буди ж ты ее, не буди...
На заре она сладко так спит!
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