Like a cold wind, at the start,
It will burn and sear,
Then, it’ll fall into your heart
As one salty tear.
Angry heart will then turn sad,
Pitying some thing.
Nonetheless, it won’t forget
This melancholy’s sting.
I only sow. The others
Will then reap. So what!
May God bless the harvest
Of the reaping horde!
And in attempts to not fall short
In thanking you enough,
This gift I give onto the world
More permanent than love.
Она сначала обожжёт,
Как ветерок студеный,
А после в сердце упадёт
Одной слезой соленой.
И злому сердцу станет жаль
Чего-то. Грустно будет.
Но эту легкую печаль
Оно не позабудет.
Я только сею. Собирать
Придут другие. Что же!
И жниц ликующую рать
Благослови, о Боже!
А чтоб тебя благодарить
Я смела совершенней,
Позволь мне миру подарить
То, что любви нетленней.
«His eyes are lightless underground lakes, / Abandoned castles of the ancient kings. / Marked with the sign of the eternal shame / Of that, the Other One, he never speaks. / The deepest wound, his mouth, dark and purple, / Made with a blade borne of the deadly poison; / And it is sad and ...»
«Lawful wife / There is still some wine left in the chalice, / And the plate that's served is nests of the swallows. / Since the birth of time, the legal spouse / Is respected by her mandarin-husband. Concubine / There is still some wine left in the chalice, / And the plate is served —...»
«For how many years along this street of mine have I / overheard those footsteps — of my friends leaving. / And the darkness outside my window draws pleasure / in witnessing every sluggish departure. That is your stern character, Solitude, as / you flash an iron compass; bow coldly / now...»
«I must he ill, of course. I’ve been shivering / for three days now like a horse before the races. / Even the haughty man who lives on my landing / has said as much to me: / Bella, you’re shaking! / / Please control yourself, this strange disease of yours / is rocking the walls, it...»