Over the river the hazes that flow
'Neath the moon in the lonesome night,
They beset me with hate, and they bring me delight
For the stillness thereof and the woe.
Forgotten the beauty of day,
And thro' mist I stealthily pace,
A track scarce beheld, in my travail I trace
And I carry my lonely despair on my way.
Этот зыбкий туман над рекой
В одинокую ночь, при луне, —
Ненавистен он мне, и желанен он мне
Тишиною своей и тоской.
Я забыл про дневную красу,
И во мглу я тихонько вхожу,
Еле видимый след напряжённо слежу,
И печали мои одиноко несу.
«Physicists are somehow much in honor; / Lyricists are somehow pushed aside. / It’s not a question of cold calculation; / It’s just a question of universal law. / It seems we’ve failed to find out what / We should have discovered long ago! / It seems our wings are rather weak — / ...»
«Dante’s tomb. Quietly and solemnly / we enter here — tempo andante. / We can’t well explain it, / but we understand: Dante... Dante... Dante — Dante, and yet we are no more / than what we are. There’s a frontier here. / Feeling no envy, pain, we enter / the tomb, crumpling our...»
«Extinct volcanoes brood in silence. / Ash scatters down into their keep. / Reposing from their evil deeds, / the giants now are sunk in sleep. A growing chill pervades their realm. / Their shoulders hunch under the strain. / But, as before, their sinful visions / come haunting them at n...»
«The grass is deep and damp / when you step off the porch. / I’m holding another’s son, / the image of his father. I hold him clumsily / and high, and say: “Look there! / Do you see the boat / that is all blue inside! “We’ll open my table drawer, / and take some nuts and can...»