He's taken all from me, executioner God.
Health, strength of will, the air, and sleep.
Only one thing did he leave me, and that
Is you, that I may continue to praise him.
Всё отнял у меня казнящий бог:
Здоровье, силу воли, воздух, сон,
Одну тебя при мне оставил он,
Чтоб я ему еще молиться мог.
«Where, my childhood’s home, art thou, / Warm beneath the hillock’s brow? / And my little blue, blue bud, / And the sand where no one trod? / Where, my childhood’s home, art thou? Past the river sings the cock. / There the shepherd grazed his flock / And amid the water’s play / ...»
«O fields of corn, O fields of corn. / An orphan’s grief is mine; / Heavy on my heart lies yesterday, / But in my heart you shine. The fleeting miles whistle like birds / About my horse’s mane, / And the sun is sprinkling lavishly / Her holy healing rain. O land of floods and agony ...»
«I call not Death the child of darkness, / Nor, with the fancy of a slave, / Give him a scythe to arm his starkness / Nor skeleton from out the grave. O offspring of the air our master, / O ornament with brilliant charms, / You bear no scythe that brings disaster / But peaceful olive in ...»
«Sing not, nightingale, / Under my window; / Fly away to the woods / Of my own country! / Learn to love the window / Of my soul’s maiden! / Sing to her tenderly / Of my agony; / Sing of me without her, / Waning, withering. / As the grass on the steppe. / Autumn facing it. / ...»