A pale moon, on the wane,
The air sonorous, dead and clear,
And on the naked, nippy willow
Murmurs a wilted leaf.
Catches frost, gets heavier
In the abyss of a quiet pond.
Darkens and thickens
The stirless water.
A pale moon on the wane
Is lying dead,
And on the naked black willow
The cold ray doesn’t tremble.
The sky shimmers, dear,
As the magical earth,
As the inaccessible fields
Of a lost paradise.
Бледный месяц — на ущербе.
Воздух — звонок, мертв и чист.
И на голой, зябкой вербе
Шелестит увядший лист.
Замерзает, тяжелеет
В бездне тихого пруда,
И чернеет и густеет
Неподвижная вода.
Бледный месяц на ущербе
Умирающий лежит,
И на голой черной вербе
Луч холодный не дрожит.
Блещет небо, догорая,
Как волшебная земля,
Как потерянного рая
Недоступные поля.
«February. Get your ink and weep. / Write about February in sobs, / So long as squelching slush and sleet / Burn with the spring of blackened blobs. Then hire a cab. Through peals of church bells, / Through joyous screeches of the wheels, / To where the downpour thunders loudest / And dr...»
«I drink the bitterness of primroses and autumn skies, / They hold the burning torrents of your faithlessness: / The bitterness of evenings, nights, and human crowds, / I drink my sobbing stanzas’ sodden bitterness. To workshops incubi — all soberness is foe. / We hate the safety of the ...»
«I winced. Catching fire, I shivered with cold, / Just made a proposal of marriage. Too late — / I was nervous and frightened; her answer was no. — / I am grieved with her tears. And more blessed than a saint! I went out on the square. It seemed I was born / for a second time. Each insig...»
«A cardboard box of sugared orange — / My little garret. / No need to trudge through dingy lodgings / To the mortuary! I moved again into this room — / From superstition. / The paper on the walls is brown, / The door is singing. I h...»