There a man burned
Fet
How difficult to wander in the crowd
Pretending every day to be alive,
Recounting to the not-yet-living
The passions' tragic play.
And, peering into nightmares,
Find order in disordered swirls of feeling,
So that by art's anemic glow
They recognize life's fatal fire.
Там человек сгорел.
Фет
Как тяжело ходить среди людей
И притворяться непогибшим,
И об игре трагической страстей
Повествовать ещё не жившим.
И, вглядываясь в свой ночной кошмар,
Строй находить в нестройном вихре чувства,
Чтобы по бледным заревам искусства
Узнали жизни гибельной пожар!
«I don't know whether the Earth is spinning or not, / It depends on whether the word fits the line. / I don't know whether apes were my grandparents, / Because I don't know what I want, sweet or sour. / But I do know that I want to seethe, I want the Sun / And t...»
«I'm peering at you, oh, numbers, / And you emerge clothed in animals, in their skins, / Leaning calmly on uprooted oaks. / You bestow unity between the snake-like movement / Of the universe's spine and the dance of a rocker. / You reveal centuries as teeth of a rapid laugh. / My eyes hav...»
«Neither fragile Japanese shadows / Nor mellifluous Indian daughters / Sound as sorrowful / As the last supper orations. / On the verge of death all that has happened / Repeats itself quickly but differently. / And that is the basis / For the dance of death and its achievement.»
«Oh Asia! You are my torment. / I fancy thunderclouds like maiden's brows, / And lengthy gatherings at night / Like the bloom of tender shoulders. / Where is the prophet of a new day? / Oh, If only Asia would cover my knees / With the hair of blue rivers, / And whisper her cryptic pl...»