Run-down and worn from daily rambles
I will forsake the bustling whims
To bring to mind the sores of troubles
And stir the former, bygone dreams...
If only I could breathe instilling
The joy of spring into her soul!
Oh no, I do not aim at killing
Her childish idleness at all!
I'd better keep my soul from striving
To her unearthly heights, alas,
Where happiness appears shining,
But it is not designed for us.
Усталый от дневных блужданий
Уйду порой от суеты
Воспомнить язвы тех страданий,
Встревожить прежние мечты...
Когда б я мог дохнуть ей в душу
Весенним счастьем в зимний день!
О нет, зачем, зачем разрушу
Ее младенческую лень?
Довольно мне нестись душою
К ее небесным высотам,
Где счастье брежжит нам порою,
Но предназначено не нам.
«This winter night I travel out, / This winter night, I cannot sleep: / From corners, shelves, from all about, / Across and through its heavy shroud, / The rosy-colored twilight seeps. Having flipped the silver goblets / Over in the drowsy air, / The lilies pour me fragrant droplets / ...»
«Among the worlds, and in the stellar light / One Star repeatedly I call by name... / And not because She is the one I loved, / But just because the others slake my flame. And if the burden of my doubt is hard / From Her I seek an answer, unimpeded, / Not for the light She's casting as a S...»
«Scorched by the fire of the sky’s unmoving body, / The pick-ax stops clanging out its accursed lesson. / And nailed onto the earth, the piled autumnal haystacks / Of sleeping working-men are black as any downpour. The last decision of some dark and savage forces, / A vertical ray’s call...»
«The all-dressed-up in gold, consumptive-looking gardens — / Where their slow sickness wears magenta-rich veneers. / The late glow of the sun lingering in its brief arches / Having no power to take the shape of fragrant fruit. Also the coarse footprints, the yellow silk of carpets. / The c...»