The heavy clouds at length are scattering.
O Star of sorrow, star of evening,
Thy ray has silvered the fast-fading plain,
The quiet gulf, the black rocks of the main.
I love thy feeble light in the far heaven,
It wakes old thoughts now unto slumber given.
Have I not seen thee rise, remembered Star,
Across the peaceful land where all things are
Dear to the heart; where poplars stand in state
Along the vale, and myrtles delicate,
And gloomy cypresses, and evermore
The south winds sing. Along the hills and shore,
Full of sweet thoughts, in dreaming idleness,
In older days my feet were wont to press.
Редеет облаков летучая гряда.
Звезда печальная, вечерняя звезда!
Твой луч осеребрил увядшие равнины,
И дремлющий залив, и чёрных скал вершины.
Люблю твой слабый свет в небесной вышине;
Он думы разбудил, уснувшие во мне:
Я помню твой восход, знакомое светило,
Над мирною страной, где всё для сердца мило,
Где стройны тополы в долинах вознеслись,
Где дремлет нежный мирт и тёмный кипарис,
И сладостно шумят полуденные волны.
Там некогда в горах, сердечной думы полный,
Над морем я влачил задумчивую лень,
Когда на хижины сходила ночи тень —
И дева юная во мгле тебя искала
И именем своим подругам называла.
«In the breeze, on a bough that is asking / If it’s time for the birds to sing, / Like a sparrow soaked with the showers. / My lilac blossom, you swing. The raindrop’s a heavy button, / And the garden in spate appears. / Bespattered and wet and sprinkled / As with millions of blue te...»
«The lime-trees by the open door / Breathe sweet and rich. / Forgotten on the table / A glove and riding switch. A yellow disk of lamplight, / A rustling near at hand. / (But why did you leave me? / I do not understand.) How beautiful the world is / In the morning cool and clear! / ...»
«I said to the cuckoo: “Till I die / Tell me how many years must pass!” / Pines were waving in the sky. / Yellow light fell on the grass. / Came no answer: all was still / In that leafy place. / As I walked home the wind blew chill / On my burning face.»
«No, no, I did not love you, — gladly / Scorched though I was by such a flame; / And yet explain the strength that sadly / Still lingers for me in your name. In front of me I saw you kneeling, / Like one who waited for a crown; / And round your youthful head was wheeling / Death’s si...»