Dear doting sweetheart of my childhood,
Companion of my austere fate!
In the lone house deep in the wild wood
How patiently for me you wait.
Alone beside your window sitting
You wait for me and blame the clock,
While, in your wrinkled hands, your knitting
Fitfully falters to a stop.
Beyond the crumbling gates the pinetrees
Shadow the road you watch so well.
Nameless forebodings, dark anxieties,
Oppress your heart. You cannot tell
What visions haunt you: Now you seem to see...
Подруга дней моих суровых,
Голубка дряхлая моя!
Одна в глуши лесов сосновых
Давно, давно ты ждёшь меня.
5 Ты под окном своей светлицы
Горюешь, будто на часах,
И медлят поминутно спицы
В твоих наморщенных руках.
Глядишь в забытые вороты
10 На чёрный отдалённый путь;
Тоска, предчувствия, заботы
Теснят твою всечасно грудь.
То чудится тебе . . . . . . . . . .
«3 Not hunching under sorrow, / Under the stone — winged — as / An eagle — having stayed whole, The double sadness / Of earthly mothers / And heavenly mistresses Having raised on the shoulder — / Hot Maltese steel / Was left to me! But the wrathful sky / To the eagles —...»
«4 Over the sleeping youth — golden spurs. / Command: Up high! / Back at the heels the crowd of robbers. / George, cry! With a free left hand you're feeling the cross. / Command: swim! / Rule, that to the last one they come under / The cupola Sofian! We're lost! The joints will not ...»
«5 In the name of massacre / Hold tight, my one with wings! / There was an hour of crossing / And will be — of getting even. In that ton-and-half hour / Between fact and dream / Heavily paddled / The ship's wings. Between Charybdis — yes! — / And Scylla paddled away. / Oh my...»
«Horse — lame. / Sword — rusty. / Who — now? / Leader of crowds. Step — hour, / Sigh — century, / Look — down. / All — there. Foe. — Friend. / Thorn. — Laurel. / All — dream... / He. — Horse. Horse — lame. / Sword — rusty. / Cloak — ol»