A boiling Waterfall, once, dashing from the rock,
Addressed to a salubrious Spring below with a talk:
"In grass you're hardly seen, your murmur is not loud,
So how you succeed attracting this huge crowd?
Why do they come to you? I'don't know what to think."
"For treatment", quietly said the Spring.
Кипящий Водопад, свергаяся со скал,
Целебному ключу с надменностью сказал
(Который под горой едва лишь был приметен,
Но силой славился лечебною своей):
«Не странно ль это? Ты так мал, водой так беден,
А у тебя всегда премножество гостей?
Не мудрено, коль мне приходит кто дивиться;
К тебе зачем идут?» — «Лечиться»,
Смиренно прожурчал Ручей.
«All friends are saying: "All is good / To save from evil, rage one part of Tragedy, / One part of your soul, as thruth..." / But who has said that to divide I'm able? And how could I hide my passion in a half, / Without notion of it to be the passion? / How could I give to people only ...»
«Good poems torment me much, / Bad ones — are nice without reason: / They can't sting souls, nor they bite, / They have the warmth of home, isn't it? So — that's a real lemonad, of course, / (They're light, as a silk morning gown). / And qeniuse ones takes minute to concern, oh... ...»
«Since that time when the highest court / Had given me the prophet's vision, / In eyes of men I always caught / The images of sin and treason. Then I began to promulgate / The clear love's and truth's commandment: / At me all humans threw for that / Hard sticks and stones, like the madme...»
«E’er since eternal judge gave me / A prophet’s proud omniscient manner, / In people’s eyes I’m wont to see / The wicked sway of vice’s banner. When I began to tell of love / And truth in all its purest teaching: / My fellows in a pressing shove / Stoned me, in spite of all bes...»