There is she, the fruit-bearing autumn!
Somewhat late they denounced her birth,
‘Cause for fifteen blessed springs I was molten
And could not rise myself from the earth.
Then I had recognized her, belated,
Pressed myself against her and embraced,
And the autumn to me, execrated,
Was in secret transmitting her grace.
Вот она, плодоносная осень!
Поздновато ее привели.
А пятнадцать блаженнейших весен
Я подняться не смела с земли.
Я так близко ее разгляыдела,
К ней припала, ее обняла,
А она в обреченное тело
Силу тайную тайно лила.
«Stars raced headlong. Seaward headlands lathered. / Salt spray blinded. Eyes dried up their tears. / Darkness filled the bedrooms. Thoughts raced headlong. / To Sahara Sphinx turned patient ears. Candles guttered. Blood, it seemed, was frozen / In the huge Colossus. Lips at play / Swelled...»
«That year! How often “Out you fall!” / That old year's whisper at my window said. / The new year makes an end of all / And brings a Dickens Christmas tale instead. He murmurs: “Shake yourself, forget.” / Mercury rises with the sun outside, / Just as the old year strychnine set / ...»
«Dawn shakes the candle, shoots a flame / To light the wren and does not miss. / I search my memories and proclaim: / "May life be always fresh as this!” Like a shot dawn rang through the night. / Bang-bang it went. In swooning flight / The wads of bullets flame and hiss. / May life be...»
«So they begin. With two years gone / From nurse to countless tunes they scuttle. / They chirp and whistle. Then comes on / The third year, and they start to prattle. So they begin to see and know. / In din of started turbines roaring / Mother seems not their mother now. / And you not yo...»