Quietly fades the evening light,
The mountains’ golden glow,
The sultry air begins to cool, —
Sleep you now, my child.
The nightingales’ song has long been heard,
Signalling the dusk,
And softly comes the sound of strings,
Sleep you now, my child.
Angels’ eyes look gently down,
Shining anxiously,
Lightly breathing through the night,
Sleep you now, my child.
Тихо вечер догорает,
Горы золотя;
Знойный воздух холодает, —
Спи, мое дитя.
Соловьи давно запели,
Сумрак возвестя;
Струны робко зазвенели, —
Спи, мое дитя.
Смотрят ангельские очи,
Трепетно светя;
Так легко дыханье ночи, —
Спи, мое дитя.
«A day of heat. The woods burning. Time / Hanging heavy. From a neighboring plot / A cock was crowing. I went through the gate. / There, on the bench, his back against the fence, / A wandering Serb, dark-skinned and lean, sat dozing. / A heavy silver crucifix hung down / Among the rolling...»
«The snow has drifted. Quietness descends. / Blind walls beside the alley here, and empty ground. / Here comes a man. To take the knife and stab him now! / — Without a sound he’ll lean against the fence, / Then slowly sink onto his knees, and lie face down. / The snowy breath that stirs...»
«I I had lots of fun today: / First the thief who pinched a pullet / From that hag across the way; / Then the horse — they tried to pull it — / Jumped and bolted like a bullet; / And the kite has flown away. But — the thief is no more free, / They have locked him in a cell; / Fo...»
«Twilight was turning to darkness outside. / Under the eaves a window banged wide. A curtain was lifted, a light briefly shone, / A swift shadow fell down the wall and was gone. Happy the man who falls head first to death: / At least for a moment his viewpoint is fresh.»