Day’s rain is done. The rainy mist of night
Spreads on the sky, leaden apparel wearing,
And through the pine-trees, like a ghost appearing,
The moon comes up with hidden light.
All in my soul drags me to dark surrender.
There far away, rises the moon in splendour.
There all the air is drunk with evening heat,
There move the waters in a sumptuous sheet.
And overhead the azure skies. . . .
It is the hour. From high hills she has gone
To sea-shores flooding in the waves’ loud cries;
There, where the Holy cliffs arise,
Now she sits melancholy and alone. . . .
Alone. . . . Before her none is weeping, fretting,
None, on his knees, is kissing her, forgetting
Alone. . . . To no one’s lips is she betraying
Her shoulders, her wet lips, her snow-white bosom.
No one is worthy of her heavenly love.
’Tis true? . . . Alone. . . . You weep. . . . I do not move.
Yet if...
Ненастный день потух; ненастной ночи мгла
По небу стелется одеждою свинцовой;
Как привидение, за рощею сосновой
Луна туманная взошла…
Всё мрачную тоску на душу мне наводит.
Далёко, там, луна в сиянии восходит;
Там воздух напоён вечерней теплотой;
Там море движется роскошной пеленой
Под голубыми небесами…
Вот время: по горе теперь идёт она
К брегам, потопленным шумящими волнами;
Там, под заветными скалами,
Теперь она сидит печальна и одна…
Одна… никто пред ней не плачет, не тоскует;
Никто её колен в забвенье не целует;
Одна… ничьим устам она не предаёт
Ни плеч, ни влажных уст, ни персей белоснежных.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Никто её любви небесной не достоин.
Не правда ль: ты одна… ты плачешь… я спокоен;
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Но если . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
«The female clouds drifted weeping / Above the highest valleys’ valleys / The female clouds were slinging hay / Above the saddest valleys’ valleys / The female clouds were dripping hay / Above the saddest valleys’ valleys / The female clouds drifting wailed / Above the highest val...»
«A monster inhabits mountain’s high / And has a terrifying bottom. / It’s grabbed a girl carrying a pot / And flashes her a comely smile. / And she is ready to drop just like / a fruit in his paws like hairy branches. / The monster is as a monster looks. / Self-satisfied it scratche...»
«The elephants so tangled their tusks / They seemed a single white stone / Under the painter’s arm. / The deer so mingled their antlers / They seemed to join in an ancient contract / With mutual interests and mutual distrusts. / The rivers so drained into the sea it seemed / the arms ...»
«Today I will again venture / there, into life, trade, the bazaar, / And lead an army of songs / Alone against the market’s blare.»