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.»
«9 The piano, aquiver, will lick the foam from its lips. / The frenzy will wrench you, fell you, and you, undone. / Will whisper: “Darling!" “No," I shall cry, “what’s this? / In the presence of music!" Of nearness there is none Like twilight’s, with the chords tossed into the firep...»
«Here the trace of enigma's strange fingernail shows. / "It is late. Let me sleep, and at dawn I’ll reread / And then all will be clear. Till they wake me, there’s none / Who can move the beloved as I move her, indeed!” How I moved you! You bent to the brass of my lips / As an audience...»
«I’ve come from the street. Spring, where the poplar stands / Amazed, where distance quails, and the house fears it will fall, / Where the air is blue, like the bundle of wash in the hands / Of the convalescent leaving the hospital; Where evening is empty: a tale begun by a star / And inte...»
«You pictures flying slantwise in a shower / From the highway that blew the candle out, / I can’t teach you to keep from rhyme and measure, / Deserting hooks and walls in your skew rout. Suppose the universe goes masked? Or even / That every latitude breeds some of those / Who are on han...»