My Translation:
***
Azure hills near Moscow linger,
Tar and dust  — in the lukewarm air.
I sleep all day, all day I laugh  — let's say
I am recovering from winter.

I am walking home in utter silence:
For unwritten poems — no remorse!
I prefer, to every single verse,
The rattling wheels, the smell of fried almonds.

When the mind is beautifully empty,
Always blame the heart — it is too full!
As though little waves, my days unfurl;
From the bridge, I  watch them fall aplenty.

Someone's gazes are too soft and tender
In the tenderness of lightly heated air...
I am falling under summer's spell,
Barely recovered from winter.

(March 13, 1915)