The piano, trembling, makes the lips grow dry.
This frenzy cuts you down and overthrows.
You whisper: Dearest! — No, o no! I cry —
Here, with the music?! — Yet, can one be closer,
Than in the twilight, flinging chords in sets —
Like diaries into the fire — in sets, complete?
O wondrous understanding, nod assent —
Assent, and be amazed! — for you are free.
I do not hold you back. Go, comfort, help.
Go to the others. “Werther”1 has been written.
The air itself has now the smell of death.
To open windows is to cut the wrist.
____
1. Goethe’s novel The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774).
Рояль дрожащий пену с губ оближет.
Тебя сорвёт, подкосит этот бред.
Ты скажешь: — милый! — Нет, — вскричу я, — нет!
При музыке?! — Но можно ли быть ближе,
Чем в полутьме, аккорды, как дневник,
Меча в камин комплектами, погодно?
О пониманье дивное, кивни,
Кивни, и изумишься! - ты свободна.
Я не держу. Иди, благотвори.
Ступай к другим. Уже написан Вертер,
А в наши дни и воздух пахнет смертью:
Открыть окно — что жилы отворить.
«Blue is the fog, the expanse is snow-bound, / Fine is the beam of the moon that shines. / Isn't it nice to be sitting around, / Thinking about the bygone times?! / / Down by the porch is the snow thawing out. / Just like to-night, by the moonlight, alone, / Putting my cap on, the wro...»
«You have been used by someone else / But there is something good at bottom: / Your glassy hair casting spells, / Your weary eyes tired out in autumn. / / The autumn age! Well, for my part, / I like it more than youth, I know it, / You're now much better to the heart / And fascinat...»
«Oh, what a night! I cannot sleep. / The sky is moonlit. Well, I never! / It seems that I in my heart I keep / The youth that has been gone for ever. / / My friend of frosted bygone years, / Don't call a game love and affection, / I'd rather have the moonlight rays / Flow down up...»
«The snowstorm is crying like a Romany violin. / Sweet is the girl. She is wicked when smiling. / / Blue are her eyes, do the give me a scare? / I need quite a lot, and I don't really care. / / We're so much alike and so much contrasted, — / You're young. I am old. And my life has ...»