Here is the long-bided hour: the labor of years is accomplished.
Why should this sadness unplumbed secretly weigh on my heart?
Is it, my work being done, I stand like a laborer, useless,
One who has taken his pay, alien to unwonted tasks?
Is it the work I regret, the silent companion of midnight,
Friend of the golden-haired Dawn, friend of the gods of the hearth?
Миг вожделенный настал: окончен мой труд многолетний.
Что ж непонятная грусть тайно тревожит меня?
Или, свой подвиг свершив, я стою, как подёнщик ненужный,
Плату приявший свою, чуждый работе другой?
Или жаль мне труда, молчаливого спутника ночи,
Друга Авроры златой, друга пенатов святых?
«Into the house he came at last / Where she’d dreamed of him as years came and passed, / Where for an age he’d yearned to be / For she had so decided, and so had he. I swear this must’ve been love indeed, / Take a look: you will recognize its deed. / But listen, go call on the Heaven...»
«St. Elmo’s fire lights up at midnight, / Burns on the mast before a tempest. / It will be warming up our spirits / For all past years, come shine or rain. / The day that we return to Portland, / Like little lambs we'll be the tamest, / Except to Portland, as we reckon, / We’re neve...»
«Time of youth will travel quickly stealing days of happy charms. / What the fates have got in store inescapably comes your way. / One day something most admirable will tap upon your doorway; / One day something least desirable will fall into your arms. Ah, preparing for the doomsday, don't be...»
«"My horse is exhausted, my shoes are completely worn out. / Which way should I travel from here, would you kindly say?" / "Along the red river, my dear, and toward the blue mount. / Toward the blue mount, my sweet dear, you should make your way." "And how shall I find it, my horse needs to re...»