To me the whole world promised him:
The dusty scarlet heavens’ border,
At Christmas, gentle dreaming’s whim,
And Easter’s rowdy wind’s disorder,
And vine’s red switches as they rise,
And waterfalls in summer gardens,
And two enormous dragonflies
On cast-iron fence, where rust-patch hardens.
And I could simply not believe
That we, as friends, would be together,
As down the hills my way did weave
Along stone paths through sun-warmed heather.
Все обещало мне его:
Край неба, тусклый и червонный,
И милый сон под Рождество,
И Пасхи ветер многозвонный,
И прутья красные лозы,
И парковые водопады,
И две большие стрекозы
На ржавом чугуне ограды.
И я не верить не могла,
Что будет дружен он со мною,
Когда по горным склонам шла
Горячей каменной тропою.
«A beauty’s tempting eyes / Will do no harm by glancing; / Since youth we fantasize / Of loving and romancing. / My friends, you must agree, / My friends, you must agree, / Although it’s not all sugar, / It simply has to be. Move on, my destiny! / If not — oh well, whatever; / ...»
«There used to be a soldier boy, / You’d find nobody braver, / But he was just a children’s toy, / For he was made of paper. He’d make the world in every way / Both happier and safer, / But on a thread he hung all day, / For he was made of paper. He’d gladly perish twice for you...»
«In a bottle old and brown / From the dark imported beer / Of a rose the scarlet crown / Bloomed with poise and graceful cheer. / I was writing of the past, / Slowly letting it unravel, / From the first page to the last / Making my uncertain travel. One is telling as he’s willing, / ...»
«Trunk color crimson and crown color blue, / Pine cones of green gently clinking, / There was the wind and the room it went through, / There they praised lovers with singing, / There was the wind and the strings that it brushed, / Caught in a long conversation… / January came in a madde...»