We went out of the stuffy room
Outside, the air languorous and sweet;
The lilac siblings of an indifferent family
Were staring from the balcony.
The piping of sea reeds
And rubies, tossed about the splashes…
We strolled aimlessly for a long while
In between rocks on the low coast.
The lacework of your dress —
So tender, wispily-subtle,
Like gauze on the foothills of a crucifixion,
Like the reveries and prayers of a child.
With the fire of unearthly revelations
Shone the distances of dusk,
And spears of unclear languor
Pierced the open soul.
The flame-coloured porphyry of dawn
Turned pale, languidly fading…
And it became misty and damp.
We hid behind the glass again.
Мы вышли из комнаты душной
На воздух томящий и сладкий;
Глядели семьей равнодушной
С балкона лиловые братки.
Звучали морские свирели,
Метались рубины по брызгам...
Мы долго бродили без цели
Меж камней на береге низком.
О, кружево Вашего платья —
Так нежно, так дымчато-тонко,
Как газ у подножья распятья,
Как греза в молитве ребенка.
Огнем неземных откровений
Сияли закатные дали,
И копья неясных томлений
Отверстую душу пронзали.
Зари огнецветной порфира
Бледнела, медлительно блекла...
И стало туманно и сыро.
Мы — спрятались снова за стекла.
«Being green from their sparkling wit / And from their liveliness exhausting, / Two young men walking were doll with, / Who was a beauty but agnostic.»
«All people may be lost just once, / And a lost trace may not be found, / When man, who staying is with us, / Leaves into night, said "see around". And if he leaves within a day, / He does depart indeed and maybe / Let us return him anyway, / While he is crossing square stately. Let us ...»
«People аrе lost just оnсе, / Lost traces аrе not retraced, / See, оnе staying at уоur house, / Says good-bye, goes into the night. Ве it а daytime, he is / Still leaving you, so let us / Fetch him back now / Не is crossing the square. Fetch him right over, / Have а t...»
«For misfortune or for luck / Truth is easy, friend — / Never, please, come back / In old native land. Even if a house’s ruins / Looking pretty good, / You with me here find nothing / What we loved and would. Conversely journey / I so want forbid, / And I ask you as my brother...»