Everything has been checked. My inventory is ready.
O bell, strike for the last time.
For the last time sound the final departure.
Everything has been checked, nothing holds me here,
And voices call from the mists.
O, voices call in hope and freedom...
Everything has been checked. My bow to the past...
O bell, what an anxious sound,
What an anxious sound you send untiring...
Here soon will be the mountain pass,
Which my spirit has awaited with such rapture,
And sullenly the present passes by.
Всё пересмотрено. Готов мой инвентарь.
О, колокол, в последний раз ударь.
Последний раз звучи последнему уходу.
Всё пересмотрено, ничто не держит тут.
А из туманов голоса зовут.
О, голоса зовут в надежду и свободу.
Всё пересмотрено. Былому мой поклон…
О, колокол, какой тревожный звон,
Какой крылатый звон ты шлёшь неутомимо…
Вот скоро будет горный перевал,
Которого мой дух с таким восторгом ждал,
А настоящее идёт угрюмо мимо.
Я оставляю плату, труд и торг,
Я принимаю крылья и восторг,
Я говорю торжественно: «Во имя,
Во имя кре́стное, во имя кре́стных уз,
Во имя кре́стной муки, Иисус,
Я делаю все́ дни мои Твоими.»
«"My horse is exhausted, my shoes are completely worn out. / Which way should I travel from here, would you kindly say?" / "Along the red river, my dear, and toward the blue mount. / Toward the blue mount, my sweet dear, you should make your way." "And how shall I find it, my horse needs to re...»
«The eyes are the arch of the grey autumn sky, / The sky that lost sparkle and froze. / And under its weight, bent and trampled I lie. / And that's how her love for me goes. Farewell, no more mercy, it's all done and said. / Each day unmistakably shows / That passion is dead, that it's sun...»
«Again Hope and I met each other — a meeting quite pleasing. / Her residence hasn’t moved farther, it’s me that was busy. / The same lucky dress made of poplin she’s wearing for walking, / The same is the fire in her eyes staring ages ahead... / You’re sister to us; we’re your bro...»
«I walk and I listen to what must be / The best little song on this earth. / I’m feeling the movement inside of me / Of its simple music and verse. It is immature and still very new, / Still very unsung — but the light / Of heavenly music comes vaguely through, / And orderly verses f...»