Amid the virgin maples and the weeping birches
Upon those arrogant pines to gaze I cannot brook;
The flocks of my sweet living daydreams they disturb,
Hateful to me their sober look.
Amid the gathering of their reborn neighbours
It's they alone that stir not, whisper not, nor sigh,
And they, immutable, remind the joyous springtime
Of the bleak winter days gone by.
And when the forest shall the last dry leaf let fall
And silently await the spring's new life again,
They, breathing fear to other generations, shall
In all their beauty cold remain.
Средь клёнов девственных и плачущих берёз
Я видеть не могу надменных этих сосен;
Они смущают рой живых и сладких грёз,
И трезвый вид мне их несносен.
В кругу воскреснувших соседей лишь оне
Не знают трепета, не шепчут, не вздыхают
И, неизменные, ликующей весне
Пору́ зимы напоминают.
Когда уронит лес последний лист сухой
И, смолкнув, станет ждать весны и возрожденья, —
Они останутся холодною красой
Пугать иные поколенья.
«A quiet perfume from the orchard, / apple blossoms and acacia. / The boyarina is fasting / and afraid that she might fall. / Dead men float. / Last night. It was glorious, ecstatic. / Dead men pull the oars. / Cold glances above a white veil / burn and sparkle, / and sepulchral sha...»
«These tenuous Japanese shadows, / murmuring Indian maidens — / nothing sounds so mournful / as words at a last supper. / Death — but first a flash of life / again: unknown, unlike, immediate. / This rule is the only rhythm / for the dance of death and attainment.»
«Tell your kitten not to bite, / I'll angelize you when I die. / Hokusai will paint your mouth, / Murillo paint your virgin eye.»
«Nations, faces, ages pass, / pass as in a dream, / an ever-flowing stream. / In Nature's shifting glimmer-glass / stars are nets, we their haul, / gods are shadows on a wall.»