The dull sounds of gas flares
Above the dead brightness of heads,
The tedium’s black contagion
From deserted tables,
And there, among the sallow-faced,
Harbouring the anguish of the habit,
Trying to solve on the discoloured pages
The odious puzzle of being.
Тупые звуки вспышек газа
Над мёртвой яркостью голов,
И скуки чёрная зараза
От покидаемых столов,
И там, среди зеленолицых,
Тоску привычки затая,
Решать на выцветших страницах
Постылый ребус бытия.
«Wide and yellow the evening light. / I feel a gentle April chill. / Your coming's late by many a year / but to me you're welcome still. Look at me with those merry eyes; / sit down next to me this minute: / here's that blue-bound notebook / with my girlish verses in it. Forgive me for ...»
«Bitter woman, / you speak of things to come; / your arms hang limp, / a lock of hair sticks to your bloodless brow. / You smile, and — o, those rosy lips / enticed many a bee for honeyed sips / and dazzled many a butterfly! Your moon-eyes shine, / your gaze is bent on things afar. /...»
«I drink to the ruined house, / To the evil of my life, / To our shared loneliness / And I drink to you — / To the lie of lips that betrayed me, / To the deadly coldness of the eyes, / To the fact that the world is cruel and depraved, / To the fact that God did not save.»
«We do not know how to say goodbye. / Shoulder to shoulder, we walk and walk. / Already it is dusk, and I / m silent, while you are lost in thought. Let's go into this church. What will we see? / A baptism, wedding, burial-service. / Without looking at each other, we shall leave / Why i...»