The way it used to be, my soul is lighted
By the unfading glow of bygone days.
But early autumn, like a wistful haze,
Has blown a whiff, despairing and blighted.
Dark night. We"re going separate ways.
The sound is distinct, the way it used to be,
And all my sins are in your holy prayers.
Ophelia, my nymph, remember me.
My soul is being vainly filled, in trepidation,
With distant and delightful recollection
Прошедших дней немеркнущим сияньем
Душа, как прежде, вся озарена.
Но осень ранняя, задумчиво грустна,
Овеяла меня тоскующим дыханьем.
Близка разлука. Ночь темна.
А все звучит вдали, как в те младые дни.
Мои грехи в твоих святых молитвах,
Офелия, о нимфа, помяни.
И полнится душа тревожно и напрасно
Воспоминаньем дальным и прекрасным.
«Oh, I’ve not locked the door, / I’ve not lit the candles, / You know I’m too tired / To think of sleep. See, how the fields die down, / In the sunset gloom of firs, / And I’m drunk on the sound / Of your voice, echoing here. It’s fine, that all’s black, / That life’s ...»
«I speak those words, today, that come / Only once, born in the spirit. / Bees hum on white chrysanthemum: / There’s the must of an old sachet. And the room, with narrow windows, / Preserves love, remembers the past. / Over the bed a French script flows: / It reads: "Lord, have mercy o...»
«Oh, there’s no reason for sighs, / Sadness is pointless, a crime, / Here, from grey canvas, I rise, / Vaguely, strangely through time. Arms lifted, freely curtailed, / A tormented smile on my face, / I was forced to become like this / Through hours of mutual grace. He wished it so, h...»
«And to you, my first vagary, / I said goodbye. The east was turning blue, / Though I didn’t know what you meant, / You said, simply: "I’ll not forget." Other faces appear and vanish, / Dear today, and tomorrow, done. / Why is at this page alone, / The corner is turned down? Forever...»