Pray for the lost and overburdened,
For my living soul tonight,
You, in your path, so fixed and certain,
Having seen the cabin’s light.
Sad and thankful, I’ll plainly
Tell you all without disguise,
How the blissful night had drained me,
How the morning breathed with ice.
I’ve lived my life and knew no other,
Only waited, sang my song.
I had never loathed my brother,
Never did my sister wrong.
Why would God, each day, each hour,
Choose to punish one like me?
Or did my angel come, uncover
A world that none of us could see?
Помолись о нищей, о потерянной,
О моей живой душе.
Ты, в своих путях всегда уверенный,
Свет узревший в шалаше.
И тебе печально-благодарная
Я за это расскажу потом,
Как меня томила ночь угарная,
Как дышало утро льдом.
В этой жизни я немного видела,
Только пела и ждала.
Знаю, брата я не ненавидела
И сестру не предала.
Отчего же Бог меня наказывал
Каждый день и каждый час?
Или это Ангел мне указывал
Свет, невидимый для нас?
«I’m sad, because I love you way too much to bear, / And I’m aware: the baleful rumor mill won’t spare / Your blooming youth. And soon your destiny will reckon / Your recompense for all blithe days for all sweet seconds. / With bitter tears and rueful sorrow you’ll repay. / I am sa...»
«What am I for, me, just a grain? / I'm living toiling hard with care, / For happiness I spend my life in vain, / I'm never pleased, weep on in my despair! What do I seek? Do I want more? / Where is my place? What am I for? There is a kin who die to seize / All proper answers in a blink. ...»
«I write for no quick reputation: / It is for fun, game, recreation, / For friends of mine, cute and sincere; / To mind the days that disappear.»
«Cease thy song, nightingale, / Here before my window! / Fly away, nightingale, / To my village grove. / And there light on the window / Of my sweetheart-love. / Sing to her there a song / Of my anguish, pain. / Say I wither, I die, / Here away from my lass, / As in autumn cold ra...»