Not thus, from cursed lightness having disembarked,
I look with worry on the chambers dark?
Already used to ringing high and raw,
Already judged not by the earthly law,
I, like a criminal, am being drawn along
To place of shame and execution.
I see the glorious city, and the voice most dear,
As though there is no secret grave to fear,
Where day and night, in heat and in cold bent,
I must await the Final Judgment.
Не оттого ль, уйдя от легкости проклятой,
Смотрю взволнованно на темные палаты?
Уже привыкшая к высоким, чистым звонам,
Уже судимая не по земным законам,
Я, как преступница, еще влекусь туда,
На место казни долгой и стыда.
И вижу дивный град, и слышу голос милый,
Как будто нет еще таинственной могилы,
Где, день и ночь, склонясь, в жары и холода,
Должна я ожидать последнего суда.
«I have not heard the tales of Ossian, / I have not tasted age-old wine — / why then do I seem to see a field / and Scotland's murderous moon? And in the sinister silence I seem to hear / the roll-call of the raven and the harp, / and, streaming in the wind, the scarves of men-at-arms / ...»
«For joy’s sake, from my hands, / take some honey and some sun, / as Persephone’s bees told us. Not to be freed, the unmoored boat. / Not to be heard, fur-booted shadows. / Not to be silenced, life’s dark terrors. Now we only have kisses, / dry and bristling like bees, / that die ...»
«Take — for the sake of joy — out of my palms / a little sunlight and a little honey, / as we were told to by Persephone’s bees. You can’t untie a boat that isn’t moored, / nor can you hear a shadow shod in fur, / nor — in this dense life — overpower fear. The only thing that...»
«The flowers say good-bye to me, / They bend their heads and bow low down / Which means that I will never see / Her lovely face and my home town. / / Well, that"s the way it is, my love! / I saw them all in habitation, / I take this deathly trepidation / For tender feeling, still a...»