Ophelia was singing as she perished,
And she sang while plaiting a wreath;
With flowers, the wreaths, and verses
She sunk down to the riverbed.
So much in sad songs that is tempting,
Insinuates my soul toward dark depths.
So many are the feelings and songs,
The lacrimae and desires to me given.
Офелия гибла и пела,
И пела, сплетая венки;
С цветами, венками и песнью
На дно опустилась реки.
И многое с песнями канет
Мне в душу на темное дно,
И много мне чувства, и песен,
И слез, и мечтаний дано.
«The empty you with heartfelt thou – / That slip she made, so accidental – / And all my happy dreams were now / Bestirred by soul’s love fundamental. / I faced her, by the moment caught; / To hold her gaze I had not power: / I said to her: “You’re precious flower!” / But “...»
«A cordial tu for empty vous / Slipped out instead when she addressed me, / And just this one misspoken you / Roused all my soul’s enraptured fancies. I stand here as she reads this through, / To look away now just won’t do; / I say with vous, aren’t you a gem! / But think with tu,...»
«O storm-cloud, the tempest's survival, alone / Like mad do you rush o'er the heavenly dome; / Alone do you cast as you drift on your way / A dark, brooding shade on the jubilant day. A short while ago you lay cloaking the sky, / And great forks of lightning flared round you on high. / You...»
«Where fierce the surge with awful bellow / Doth ever lash the rocky wall; / And where the moon most brightly mellow / Dost beam when mists of evening fall; / Where midst his harem’s countless blisses / The Moslem spends his vital span, / A Sorceress there with gentle kisses / Present...»