"Oh, yes, love is free as a bird,"
But all the same I am yours!
And all the same I will dream
Of your figure, all aflame!
The ravening strength of your fine hands,
Your eyes saddened by betrayal
Are all the madness of my vain passion,
Are all my nights, Carmen!
Of you I will sing to the sky
Of your voice I will sing!
Like a priest, with the stars as witness,
I will perform your rite of fire!
You will rise like a stormy wave
In the river of my poems,
And I will never wash my hands
Of your perfume, Carmen...
And in the still of night, ablaze
Like a momentary flame,
I'll see the flash of your white teeth
And your persistent face.
How I am haunted by the sweet hope
That you, in a foreign land,
That you will find a moment
For secret thoughts of me.
Beyond life's storm, beyond the cares,
Beyond the sorrow of all betrayals, -
May this solemn thought arise,
Simple and white, like a road,
Like a long road, Carmen!
О да, любовь вольна, как птица,
Да, всё равно - я твой!
Да, всё равно мне будет сниться
Твой стан, твой огневой!
Да, в хищной силе рук прекрасных,
В очах, где грусть измен,
Весь бред моих страстей напрасных,
Моих ночей, Кармен!
Я буду петь тебя, я небу
Твой голос передам!
Как иерей свершу я требу
За твой огонь - звездам!
Ты встанешь бурною волною
В реке моих стихов,
И я с руки моей не смою,
Кармен, твоих духов...
И в тихий час ночной, как пламя,
Сверкнувшее на миг,
Блеснет мне белыми зубами
Твой неотступный лик.
Да, я томлюсь надеждой сладкой,
Что ты, в чужой стране,
Что ты, когда-нибудь, украдкой
Помыслишь обо мне...
За бурей жизни, за тревогой,
За грустью всех измен, -
Пусть эта мысль предстанет строгой,
Простой и белой, как дорога,
Как дальний путь, Кармен!
«how many times encircled by / a motley crowd / in front of me / as in a dream cacophonies of dance / & music / speeches learned by heart / in phatic whispers mixing with shapes of people / absent a mind or soul / grimacing masks / yet so fastidious much as they touch / my cold...»
«The eyes beg helplessly and dearly / For mercy. Can I ease their pain / As someone is uttering near me / His short and resounding name? I cross the field along the trail, / Where silver timber logs are piled. / Down here, the gentle gusts prevail / As in the springtime, fresh and wild. ...»
«A perfectly ripened trill, / The cackling of crushed ice, / Night, frosting a leaf, / A duel between nightingales. A sweet pea-vine grown wild, / God's tears upon a peapod, / Figaro from flutes and conductors' stands / Crashing down like hail on a flower bed. The crucial discovery of n...»
«I’d like to live with You / In a small town, / Where there are eternal twilights / And eternal bells. / And in a small village inn — / The faint chime / Of ancient clocks — like droplets of time. / And sometimes, in the evenings, from some garret — / A flute, / And the flau...»