I call to mind a moment’s glory.
You stood before me, face to face,
Like to a vision transitory,
A spirit of immaculate grace.
In hopeless torments of surrender,
In worldly tumult and alarm,
Your voice long echoed low and tender,
My dreams were of your face’s charm.
Years passed. Rude winds blew all asunder,
Scattered the dreams that once were mine,
And I forgot your voice so tender,
The features of your face divine.
To deserts and to darkness banished,
My days grew long with naught to do;
My God, my inspiration vanished,
My tears, my life, my love for you.
My soul awakened and uprisen,
Again I see you face to face,
Like to a transitory vision,
A spirit of immaculate grace.
My heart beats fast in exultation,
And all for it begins anew,
With God again, and inspiration,
And life, and tears, and love for you.
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.
«2 I lift the hands that I let fall / So long ago. / Into a black and empty window / Empty hands / I fling into mid-nocturnal striking / Clocks — I want / To go home! — Like this: head first / — From the tower! — Homeward! Not onto the cobbled square: / Into rustle and wh...»
«3 Harder and harder / Start wringing my hands! / Between us not earthly / Versts — but divisive / Celestial rivers, azure nations, / Where my friend is forever already — / Inalienable. The high road races / In silvery harness. / I don’t wring my hands! / I only extend them ...»
«4 Cover the bedstead / In swarthy olive. / The gods are jealous / Toward mortal love. Each rustle to them / Is distinct, each swish. / Know, this young man is dear / Not to you alone. Some one is incensed / With his luscious May-day. / Mind you, be wary / Of sharp-eyed heaven. ...»
«5 Ever so softly / With a hand slim and careful / I loosen the trammels: / Little hands — and obedient / To the neighing, the Amazon rustles / Off on the ringing, empty steps of parting. In the radiant flyway / The winged one tramples / And neighs. — Dawn’s flare in the eyes. ...»