I still recall the wondrous moment:
When you appeared before my sight
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.
In sorrow, when I felt unwell,
Caught in the bustle, in a daze,
I fell under your voice’s spell
And dreamt the features of your face.
Years passed and gales had dispelled
My former hopes, and in those days,
I lost your voice’s sacred spell,
The holy features of your face.
Detained in darkness, isolation,
My days began to drag in strife.
Without faith and inspiration,
Without tears, and love and life.
My soul attained its waking moment:
You re-appeared before my sight,
As though a brief and fleeting omen,
Pure phantom in enchanting light.
And now, my heart, with fascination,
Beats rapidly and finds revived
Devout faith and inspiration,
And tender tears and love and life.
Я помню чудное мгновенье:
Передо мной явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.
В томленьях грусти безнадежной,
В тревогах шумной суеты,
Звучал мне долго голос нежный
И снились милые черты.
Шли годы. Бурь порыв мятежный
Рассеял прежние мечты,
И я забыл твой голос нежный,
Твои небесные черты.
В глуши, во мраке заточенья
Тянулись тихо дни мои
Без божества, без вдохновенья,
Без слез, без жизни, без любви.
Душе настало пробужденье:
И вот опять явилась ты,
Как мимолетное виденье,
Как гений чистой красоты.
И сердце бьется в упоенье,
И для него воскресли вновь
И божество, и вдохновенье,
И жизнь, и слезы, и любовь.
«This grief for homeland! It’s despair / And hopelessness of daily worry! / I’m equally indifferent where / — Alone, entirely and wholly, — I am, which way I slowly stagger, / Back from the market, walking homeward, / Into a home, that like a barrack, / Still doesn’t know that ...»
«O, tears that in eyes freeze! / The cry of love and pain! / My Chekhia’s in tears! / In blood is all my Spain! / O, mountain of black, / You shaded all the world! / It’s time to return back / My ticket to the God. Yes, I refuse to be / In Bedlam of non-men. / Yes, I refuse to ...»
«Oh, tears in my eyes! / Love, anger, all in vain! / For Czehia that cries, / For wounded bleeding Spain, / / And for this mountain black / That shadows whole world, / 'Tis time now to give back / My ticket to my Lord. / / I'm choosing not to be. / From this asylum I / Am go...»
«What’s it like with another woman — / Simpler? — a flash of the oar! — / Did the memory of me / soon fade off-shore, like the beach of a floating island, / (in the sky — not in the sea!) / Souls, souls! You’ll be sisters, / not lovers — that’s what you’ll be! What’s...»