Sheltered by a crimson awning,
All alone, his slaves dismissed,
A lord is bidding farewell fondly
To a black-browed odalisque.
"Sarah, houri of the prophet,
My sunshine, comfort, strength, delight,
Sarah, morning's not far off now —
Azrael will soon alight.
"After battle on the morrow
Will I still walk the earth somewhere,
Or, forever freed from sorrow,
Rest my head without a care?
"Another night and tabernacle
Soon may take the place of these;
Then despite my ardent rapture,
I won't touch your rosebud cheek.
"I won't smoke my lazy hookah
Idly as you bide nearby,
Will not pensively sit looking
Into your gazelle-like eyes.
"Nor will I with weary fingers
Plait and twist your tresses black
Along the scarlet fez and fringes
Into a shining, scaly snake."
Под палаткою пунцовой,
Без невольников, один,
С одалиской чернобровой
Расстаётся властелин.
— Сара, гурия Пророка,
Солнце дней, источник сил,
Сара, утро недалёко, —
И проснётся Азраиль...
Где-то завтра после бою
Снова ноги подогну
Иль усталой головою
Беззаботно отдохну?
С новой ночью, с новой кущей,
Пылкой страсти вопреки,
Не коснусь твоей цветущей,
Нарумяненной щеки,
Пред тобою на безделье
Свой кальян не закурю
И в глаза твои газельи,
Полон дум, не посмотрю —
И рукой моей усталой
У тебя не обовью
Чёрных кос по феске алой
Чешуйча́тую змею...
«Step over, leap, run out, fly. / Steal over it, just move, be willing. / Like arrows — stream towards the sky. / Emblaze the haze, though you’re falling. Where could they be? Search 'round and sigh. / God knows on what you have been dwelling — / Hat... keys are lost or gone awry!»
«It is my last appeal to You — appear. / Let's share a feast of nightly inspiration! / Magnificent, o raise me up so near / To pinnacle where doom befell creation. Yield one last time! In life there is no course / Like farewells so holy, yet rough-watered. / As if my heart is a Lamb to ...»
«How mighty Time strives like a river, / Oh men, your deeds its current brings, / Negates and drowns in oblivion, / Outlasts all countries, realms and kings. / Remains are few, and if a lyre / Unbent sings "fame", or trumpet blasts / Infinity makes pride expire. / No swaying Fate, all w...»
«They gave themselves to sad monotonous / tasks, until their strength was spent. / Half-dead among them, only I / distracted their predicament. They looked at me and they forgot / their bubbling kettles boiling dry, / the boots of felt that scorched on stoves / — all listening to my po...»