He marked with coal, as I languished,
A target on my left side
To shoot and free the bird — my anguish
Into the empty night.
Your hand won’t tremble in the least,
My dear! I won’t suffer long.
The bird — my anguish will soar, released,
To perch and sing its song.
This will cause him to say it aloud,
The one who is home and content:
“A familiar voice, but I can’t make it out,” —
And lower his eyes again.
Углем наметил на левом боку
Место, куда стрелять,
Чтоб выпустить птицу — мою тоску
В пустынную ночь опять.
Милый! не дрогнет твоя рука,
И мне недолго терпеть.
Вылетит птица — моя тоска,
Сядет на ветку и станет петь.
Чтоб тот, кто спокоен в своем дому,
Раскрывши окно, сказал:
«Голос знакомый, а слов не пойму», —
И опустил глаза.
«For what purpose, when dreams betray, / That words brim over with delusions? / For what purpose, on a forgotten grave, / Grass grows greener and emits a noise? For what purpose these lunar heights, / If my garden is silent and dark? / And the tails of her plaits are untied, / And I hear...»
«Among worlds shone, amid glimmers, / A single star whose name I repeat.... / Not so that I may come to love it, / But because I am weary of the rest. And if I find doubt a burden, / I seek only from her an answer, / Not because she shines brightly / But because with her I need no light.»
«Dust fills the nostrils — the horses neigh. / Acacias molt over the firewood stacks. / In the wind the red hemp is asway. / The sun stands in the middle of the backyard, / The lunch-break arrives, having gnawed / its way through the growling soot of the day. I'm home, til dusk. All is q...»
«I cannot remember — at just which nightstop / the itch of future life has crawled through me. / The world did shudder. / A star tripped on its run, / and fell into a blue-enameled basin. / I reached for it... But, it has washed away, / between my fingers — a red-scaled ide. / The ...»