Like someone deaf, blind and mute,
For whom, the only thing left
Is the sense of smell, I breathe in
Dampness, mold, inclement weather
And fleeting, transient smoke...
Как слепоглухонемая,
Которой остались на свете
Лишь запахи, я вдыхаю
Сырость, прелость, ненастье
И мимолетный дымок...
«I am lost in the sky — what to do? / He to whom it is near, reply! / It was easier to ring for you, / Dante's discuses nine. Not I can be sundered from life. / Its dream is: to kill, then to kiss. / And my ears, my eyes, my eyeholes / Overflow with Florentine grief. Then lay not upon...»
«I’m given a body — what to do with thee, / So much unique, so much belong to me? For the quiet happiness to breathe and live / My gratefulness — to whom it shall I give? I’m a gardener and I’m a flower as well, / I’m not alone in th’ earthly prison cell. And all my breath and ...»
«A body was given to me — what to do with it, / So unique and so much my own? For the quiet joy of breathing and living, / Who is it, tell me, that I must thank? I am the gardener, I am the flower as well, / In the dungeon of the world I am not alone. On the glass of eternity has already ...»
«It's so my own and so familiar. What should / I do with this God-given flesh and blood? For joys so quiet as to live and breathe, / Who will receive my gratitude for these? I'm both the gardener and flower one, / In this world's dungeons I am not alone. On the glass of the eternal one can s...»