In the days of my youth she was fond of me,
And the seven-stemmed flute she handed me.
To me with smile she listened; and already gently
Along the openings echoing of the woods
Was playing I with fingers tender:
Both hymns solemn, god-inspired
And peaceful song of Phrygian shepherd.
From morn till night in oak's dumb shadow
To the strange maid's teaching intent I listened;
And with sparing reward me gladdening
Tossing back her curls from her forehead dear,
From my hands the flute herself she took.
Now filled the wood was with breath divine
And the heart with holy enchantment filled.
В младенчестве моем она меня любила
И семиствольную цевницу мне вручила.
Она внимала мне с улыбкой — и слегка,
По звонким скважинам пустого тростника,
Уже наигрывал я слабыми перстами
И гимны важные, внушенные богами,
И песни мирные фригийских пастухов.
С утра до вечера в немой тени дубов
Прилежно я внимал урокам девы тайной,
И, радуя меня наградою случайной,
Откинув локоны от милого чела,
Сама из рук моих свирель она брала.
Тростник был оживлен божественным дыханьем
И сердце наполнял святым очарованьем.
«There was a lad who once lived in our village, / He had a youthful bride with raven hair, / That self-same year when she and he turned twenty / Came war, and tore him from his bride so fair. The hero’s bride is now a hero’s widow. / Her hair is grey, her eyes have lost their fire; / T...»
«“Happiness — tarry; say whither you fly?” / “Into a loving heart.” / “Youth, to return — whither haste you and why?” / “Into a loving heart.” / “Courage and strength — tell me, whither and where? / “Into a loving heart.” / “And whither haste YOU, O sorrow an...»
«Even some of those who have at best / Five short minutes left to live — no more, / Toil and moil without a minute’s rest / As if they had some hundred years in store, While snowy peaks, coeval with Creation, / In silence stern regarding petty Man, / Stand frozen still in mournful expe...»
«Stop boasting, time, that men are but your shadows / That all their grandeur just reflects your own. / ’Tis men that lend their glory to their epoch, / Aye, men illumine time with their renown. Be grateful to the poet, thinker, hero, / Who sheds on us the light of soul and mind. / The e...»