The day will come, the warblers’ loud chirps
Will sound in chorus, praising birdsome quirks,
Merrily, a dragonfly will don
Her brightest weekend eyes and keep them on.
Once again the skies will be for birds,
And the honey meadows — for lungworts.
Only those will be dimmed at noon,
Who are moonlit even without the moon,
There will be hands to hold and embrace,
There will be lips to kiss and taste.
Even the wind, after reciting poetry,
Will fall asleep under its alder tree.
День придет, и славок громкий хор
Хорошо прославит птичий вздор,
И, смеясь, наденет стрекоза
Выходные яркие глаза.
Будут снова небеса для птиц,
А Медынь для звонких медуниц,
Будут только те затемнены,
У кого луна и без луны,
Будут руки, чтобы обнимать,
Будут губы, чтобы целовать,
Даже ветер, почитав стихи,
Заночует у своей ольхи.
«Many things want my voice to praise them, / Many things rumble, seemingly speechless; / Or they gnaw at rocks underground in the dark, / Or they show up in a circle of smoke, / But because I’ve not settled my score / With wind, water, and fire, / Sleepless nights can suddenly take me ...»
«Let’s sit down close by, darling, / Let your eyes encounter mine. / I would like to feel my heart wheel / To the meekness of your eyes. Both this lavish gold of autumn / And the blondish of a hair tress – / Every little thing has cropped in / To relieve a restless scapegrace. I ...»
«I love God’s wrath, this Evil! / Invisible, mysterious, poured through everything: / in the flowers, in the glass-clear stream, / in the rainbow-rays, in the very sky of Rome. / The same high, cloudless sky, / your breast's same sweet breath, / the same warm wind rustling tree-to...»
«We'll depart this world for ever, surely, / To repose in peace and quite. Oh, my Lord! / Maybe, I shall also have to duly / Pack my things preparing for the road. / / Oh, my birch-tree woods! Amazing pictures! / Oh, my dear land! My sandy plains! / In the face of crowds of mortal crea...»