Speak to no one. Do not drink wine.
Leave home behind. Leave brother, wife.
From people depart. Your soul must come
To feel — the past is forever gone.
What's past one must unlove. Then time
Will come to lose love for the wild,
Indifferent ever more: the day after,
From week to week, year in and year out.
And gradually your hopes expire.
Darkness swallows all. A new life
You will find then, clear and reborn:
The wooden cross, the crown of thorns.
Ни с кем не говори. Не пей вина.
Оставь свой дом. Оставь жену и брата.
Оставь людей. Твоя душа должна
Почувствовать — к былому нет возврата.
Былое надо разлюбить. Потом
Настанет время разлюбить природу,
И быть всё безразличней, — день за днём,
Неделю за неделей, год от году.
И медленно умрут твои мечты.
И будет тьма кругом. И в жизни новой
Отчётливо тогда увидишь ты
Крест деревянный и венок терновый.
«Such days may meet you just before the springtime: / Beneath the snow the meadow lies in peace; / The treetops wobble with a dainty rhythm; / Benevolent and balmy is the breeze. / And you can feel the lightness in your body, / And you do not quite recognize your home, / And eagerly you f...»
«Horses do know how to swim, but / They're not very good. They don't go far. / / One more thing that's easy to remember: / "Gloria" means "glory" or "grandeur". / / Far across the sea a ship was sailing, / Proud of its bold title and its might. / / In the hold, a thousand horses ...»
«We've still got some time left to mend it: / A whole quarter left, nothing less, — / To mend and unbend and defend it, / Reinstitute plebs and noblesse. / / But I'd rather not have another. / I carved my own way in this one, / And if I could do it all over, / I'd do what I've alre...»
«I think of the dawn of your glory, / Of the dawn of your days, / When you awoke from sleep as a demon / And a god for mankind. / / I think of the way your brows / Were knitted above the torches that were your eyes, / And of the ancient blood that, like lava, / Flowed inside your vei...»