I come again with greetings new,
to tell you day is well begun;
to say the leaves are fresh with dew
and dappled in the early sun;
to tell you how the forest stirs
in every branch of every brake,
and what an April thirst is hers,
with every whistling bird awake;
to say, as yesterday, once more,
with love as passionate and true,
my heart is ready as before
for serving happiness and you;
to tell how over every thing
delight is blowing on the air –
I know not yet what I shall sing;
I only know the song is there.
Я пришёл к тебе с приветом,
Рассказать, что солнце встало,
Что оно горячим светом
По листам затрепетало;
Рассказать, что лес проснулся,
Весь проснулся, веткой каждой,
Каждой птицей встрепенулся
И весенней полон жаждой;
Рассказать, что с той же страстью,
Как вчера, пришёл я снова,
Что душа всё так же счастью
И тебе служить готова;
Рассказать, что отовсюду
На меня весельем веет,
Что не знаю сам, что́ буду
Петь — но только песня зреет.
«You took me – / I was sullen, without affection, / with only black thoughts / and convict ravings / and a widow’s unhealed anguish / and a past love that wasn’t past / You took me as a wife – / not for joy’s sake, / not of your own accord / but out of love.»
«Moscow, who are you? / Enchantress or enchanted? / Forger of freedom / or fettered lady? / What thought furrows your brow / as you plot your worldwide plot? / Are you a shining window / into another age? / O Moscow, are you femme fatale / or fetter-fated, / fated or fêted? / D...»
«Moscow, who are you? / Are you charming or charmed? / Are you forging freedom / Or chained? / What thought knits your brow? / With the world of conspire. / Perhaps you’re a window, giving light / Into another time, / Or an expert cat you’re: / Do sciences order to crucify, / ...»
«Once again, once again / I’m a star for / you. / Woe to the sailor who has taken / The wrong angle of the ship / On a star: / He will be shattered on the rocks, / On the underwater sandbanks. / Woe to you also who have taken / The heart’s wrong angle on me. / You will be shat...»