Through the slush and the ruts of the highway.
By the side of the dam of the stream.
Where the fishermen’s nets are a-drying,
The carriage jogs on, and I dream.
I dream, and I look at the highway.
At the sky that is sullen and grey,
At the lake with its shelving reaches,
And the curling smoke far away.
By the dam, with a cheerless visage,
Walks a Jew who is ragged and sere;
With a thunder of foam and of splashing
The waters race over the weir;
A boy over there is whistling
On a hemlock flute of his make;
And the wild ducks get up in a panic
And call as they sweep from the lake;
And near the old tumbling-down mill-house
Some labourers sit on the ground;
With a sack-laden wagon a cart-horse
Plods past with a lazy sound...
It all seems to me so familiar.
Although I have never been here.
The roof of that house out yonder.
And the boy, and the wood, and the weir.
And the voice of the grumbling mill-wheel.
And that mouldering bam I know,
I have been here and seen this already.
And forgotten it all long ago.
The very same cart-horse was dragging
Those sacks with the very same sound.
And those very same labourers sitting
By the rickety mill on the ground;
And that Jew with the beard walked past me,
And those waters raced over the weir —
Yes, all this has happened already.
But I cannot tell when or where...
По гребле неровной и тряской,
Вдоль мокрых рыбачьих сетей,
Дорожная едет коляска,
Сижу я задумчиво в ней,—
Сижу и смотрю я дорогой
На серый и пасмурный день,
На озера берег отлогий,
На дальний дымок деревень.
По гребле, со взглядом угрюмым,
Проходит оборванный жид,
Из озера с пеной и шумом
Вода через греблю бежит.
Там мальчик играет на дудке,
Забравшись в зеленый тростник;
В испуге взлетевшие утки
Над озером подняли крик.
Близ мельницы старой и шаткой
Сидят на траве мужики;
Телега с разбитой лошадкой
Лениво подвозит мешки…
Мне кажется все так знакомо,
Хоть не был я здесь никогда:
И крыша далекого дома,
И мальчик, и лес, и вода,
И мельницы говор унылый,
И ветхое в поле гумно…
Все это когда-то уж было,
Но мною забыто давно.
Так точно ступала лошадка,
Такие ж тащила мешки,
Такие ж у мельницы шаткой
Сидели в траве мужики,
И так же шел жид бородатый,
И так же шумела вода…
Все это уж было когда-то,
Но только не помню когда!
«"O, my heart is torn apart / Of tenderness ... O, yes, I loved my life / Without measuring, without quenching passion, / — But by the age of thirty, I have no strength enough". Over a poet, leaning with a smile, / Unknown surgeon then / With lancet will cut his tired chest, / Instead...»
«"L’Amor che muove il Sole e l’altre stelle" / — Dante, Paradiso. XXXIII Above the abyss, a spirit, burningly / Steered worlds with love’s helm; / My spirit, soaring and sailing, / Flew into a Candlemas of stars. Answering the abyss with an abyss; / Holding the firmament in a shor...»
«"Great is their love, who love in sin and fear" / — Byron A day curled and humid exhausted its glare / Sowing the evening fire in between clouds. / Into a circle, darkened, in a circle, gaped, / The unmoving chaos of the colosseum. Out of the stormy gloom, stared / The timeless eyes of...»
«Red autumn / Rushes the faded leaves: / "Begone, fly away / To the shadows of Hades, / Forever bewailing / The short life! / Begone, fly away / From the pastures, awaiting / A new spring!" The night descends, / And from the black sky / The inscrutable stare / Of the eternal st...»