I thought my heart had lost the power
Of suffering love’s gentle pain:
I said, "The past, the fleeting hour
Comes not again, comes not again.
«They’ve gone, the raptures and the longing.
The flattering dreams that shone so bright. . . .»
But as I spoke, they came back thronging.
Called up by Beauty’s sovran might.
Я думал, сердце позабыло
Способность лёгкую страдать,
Я говорил: тому, что было,
Уж не бывать! уж не бывать!
Прошли восторги, и печали,
И легковерные мечты…
Но вот опять затрепетали
Пред мощной властью красоты.
«And you, my dear friends, ones of the last selection, / My life was saved to ever mourn you. / Not, like a willow, to cool in lamentation, / But cry your names the whole planet through! But what of names! / We are together always! / All on yo...»
«There are faces so rich as the portals / Where the great is felt apart in the small. / There are faces that similar to the wretched hovels / Where the liver they cook and get wet the maw. / The others are cold or almost have the dead faces, / Closed by grates, like a dungeon that is so da...»
«A brief moment rules a smart, / A fool knows all from reading. / Smart and fool are always apart, / Smart is weight, and fool is clothing!»
«For the duration of these moments so strange, / And for your half open eyes with that vague hint, / For moisture lips, pressing mine as trying to engage, / For all that here, at a slow fire burnt / In one beat of heart with the heart merged, / That equal sigh bound the couple dreamed, — ...»