Monotonous dying of the hours:
midnight is telling a tedious tale
in a foreign language we can’t fail
to recognise as ours.
Who can claim it never befell
him to hear time’s muffled groans
stab his soul at night, the drone,
when all’s quiet, of a prescient farewell?
It’s as if the world had been orphaned
by irresistible fate chased and caught,
and nature, after we had fought,
had marooned us, each on his separate island.
Before us there stands our existence,
a spectre on earth’s edge,
and with our friends and with our age
it pales into the distance.
While under the sun there is a birth,
a new and youthful tribe’s begotten
and it has long since been forgotten
that we, our friends, our age, were ever on this earth!
At times, performing some gloomy rite,
we can her metallic sighs
bemoaning our demise
in the silence of the night.
Часов однообразный бой,
Томительная ночи повесть!
Язык для всех равно чужой
И внятный каждому, как совесть!
Кто без тоски внимал из нас,
Среди всемирного молчанья,
Глухие времени стенанья,
Пророчески-прощальный глас?
Нам мнится: мир осиротелый
Неотразимый Рок настиг —
И мы, в борьбе, природой целой
Покинуты на нас самих.
И наша жизнь стоит пред нами,
Как призрак на краю земли,
И с нашим веком и друзьями
Бледнеет в сумрачной дали...
И новое, младое племя
Меж тем на солнце расцвело,
А нас, друзья, и наше время
Давно забвеньем занесло!
Лишь изредка, обряд печальный
Свершая в полуночный час,
Металла голос погребальный
Порой оплакивает нас!
«With sadness words cannot describe, / Out in the garden, music played. / The frozen oysters on the plate / Smelled pungently of sea and brine. He gently touched my evening dress / And said: “I am a loyal friend!” — / And yet, the contact of his hand / Felt nothing like a true care...»
«We are all heavy-drinkers and whores, / What a joyless, miserable crowd! / There are flowers and birds on the walls, / And the birds all grieve for a cloud. You are smoking your old black pipe, / And the smoke looks strange over it. / The skirt that I’m wearing feels tight, / But I ho...»
«After the wind and the frost in the yard, / It was nice to have the fire warm me. / But I’ve failed to watch my heart / And here it was taken from me. The lavish New Year’s party won’t adjourn, / Moist stems of roses catch the eyes, / But, in my chest, one can no more discern / Th...»
«...By the staircase, outside, / No one greeted me. On my own, / In the moon’s unfaithful light, / I entered the quiet home. Beneath the lamp’s green halo, / With a lifeless smile, / He whispered, “Cinderella, / Your voice is so full of guile...” The hearth is fading to embers, ...»