Once again the storm-clouds hover
In the silence over me;
Jealous Fate again hangs over,
Menacing my misery.
Shall I face my Fate, disdaining?
Shall I bear it and display
All the patience uncomplaining
That was mine in youth’s proud day?
Tossed by stormy life and driven.
Careless of this storm I wait;
Maybe I shall find a haven
To protect me from my Fate. . . .
But to part — my fear foretold it!
That dread hour we cannot flee.
Let me take your hand and hold it;
For the last time give it me.
Kind and quiet Angel, hear me;
Speak to me with soft good-byes.
You have been somournful. Near me
Let your sweet face fall or rise.
The remembrance of your caring
More than compensation pays
For the strength and pride and daring
And the hope of youthful days.
Снова тучи надо мною
Собралися в тишине;
Рок завистливый бедою
Угрожает снова мне...
Сохраню ль к судьбе презренье?
Понесу ль навстречу ей
Непреклонность и терпенье
Гордой юности моей?
Бурной жизнью утомленный,
Равнодушно бури жду:
Может быть, еще спасенный,
Снова пристань я найду...
Но, предчувствуя разлуку,
Неизбежный, грозный час,
Сжать твою, мой ангел, руку
Я спешу в последний раз.
Ангел кроткий, безмятежный,
Тихо молви мне: прости,
Опечалься: взор свой нежный
Подыми иль опусти;
И твое воспоминанье
Заменит душе моей
Силу, гордость, упованье
И отвагу юных дней.
«Midnight phantoms hover / Glittering bright with sparks in the darkness. / But my eyes cannot make out / How many of them, on their ominous wings. Midnight phantoms groan / Like a sick man in exhausted sleep, / They rise to the surface, and groan and sink again –— / But what are the...»
«A golden cloud spent the night / Resting on the breast of the giant crag; / Come the morning, it darted away, / Airily playing in the breeze. But it left behind a patch of moisture / In a crevice of the ancient rock. / Alone it stands, the mighty crag, as deep in thought, / It quietly ...»
«How all the blood in my breast / Flooded into my heart, / When the gaze from your eyes / Fastened itself upon me! For long I could not understand / Its silent language... / I sought its meaning / With fear and anguish... Suddenly all doubts vanished / And my fear forever stilled... /...»
«Quietly fades the evening light, / The mountains’ golden glow, / The sultry air begins to cool, — / Sleep you now, my child. The nightingales’ song has long been heard, / Signalling the dusk, / And softly comes the sound of strings, / Sleep you now, my child. Angels’ eyes look ...»