The snowy spring is raging mad,
I look away from the saga;
O, dreadful hour, when she read
The palm extended by Tsouniga.
Into his eyes she aimed her gaze,
There was mockery in her dark eyes,
The row of pearly teeth had blazed,
And I forgot all the days and midnights.
The heart got overflowed with blood,
My homeland memories erasing.
A voice would sing, «With all your being
You’d have to pay me back for love.»
Бушует снежная весна.
Я отвожу глаза от книги...
О, страшный час, когда она,
Читая по руке Цуниги,
В глаза Хозе метнула взгляд!
Насмешкой засветились очи,
Блеснул зубов жемчужный ряд,
И я забыл все дни, все ночи,
И сердце захлестнула кровь,
Смывая память об отчизне...
А голос пел: Ценою жизни
Ты мне заплатишь за любовь!
«When the streets empty out / and the singing dies down / and a white fog covers / the swamps and the town, / from the forests in silence / one after another / the wolves come out and go hunting. Seven wolves walk on bravely; / in front of them walks / an eighth with white fur; / w...»
«One mirror must mirror another; / each mirror mismirrors the other. Not that evil cannot be defeated, / only that we cannot escape defeat; I believe in the ash left behind by the fire; / not in the music that burned my life.»
«When a man dies / His portraits change. / His eyes look at you / Differently and his lips smile / A different smile. I noticed this / Returning from a poet’s funeral. / Since then I have seen it verified / Often and my theory is true.»
«Where can I hide in this January? / Wide-open city with a mad death-grip... / Can I be drunk from sealed doors? — / I want to bellow from locks and knots... And the socks of barking back roads, / and the hovels on twisted streets — / and deadbeats hurry into corners / and hurriedly ...»