Sad night creeps
across an earth beset
neither by thought nor threat
but by joyless, sluggish sleep.
Lightning brightens the scowls,
winking intermittently
like deaf-mute ghouls
debating heatedly.
A sign has been agreed:
the sky's alight. A sudden surge
snaps from the murk with sudden speed
and fields and distant woods emerge.
Then again they're under shrouds.
You sense it all go darkly still up there,
and if in camera some high affair
they'd ratified above the clouds.
Ночное небо так угрюмо,
Заволокло со всех сторон.
То не угроза и не дума,
То вялый, безотрадный сон.
Одни зарницы огневые,
Воспламеняясь чередой,
Как демоны глухонемые,
Ведут беседу меж собой.
Как по условленному знаку,
Вдруг неба вспыхнет полоса,
И быстро выступят из мраку
Поля и дальние леса.
И вот опять все потемнело,
Все стихло в чуткой темноте —
Как бы таинственное дело
Решалось там — на высоте.
«With sharp axe the birch tree is wounded, / On the silvery bark the tears roll down. / Do not weep, birch tree, poor thing, do not grieve, / The wound is not mortal, thou wilt be healed by summer, / Thou shalt flaunt, adorned with leaves — / But a sick heart will not heal up its wound.»
«In a white mass whirls / The mist over the lake; / The noble-hearted youth with longing / And with sorrow is possessed. Not forever appears white / The misty mass; / It will disperse, / it will float away, / But sorrow nevermore!»
«When the yellowing cornfield is waving, / And the fresh forest murmurs to the wailing of the wind, / And the crimson berry hides itself in the garden / Under the sweet shade of the green leaflet; When, sprinkled with fragrant dew / In the purple evening or the golden hour of morning, / Fr...»
«Sleep, my pretty child, / Rock-a-bye, / The bright moon silently looks / Into thy cradle. / I shall tell fairy-tales, / I shall sing a song / And fall asleep, thou, having closed thine eyes, / Rock-a-bye. Over the stories ripples the ...»