Fatigued and worn, life in my frozen chest is fading
And that’s the end of strife, the end of everything!
Kyprid and Eros, torments to my heart you bring!
Just listen to my dismal voice before its ending.
I’m fading, and I’m bearing the pain:
I’m half alive but I am burning,
I’m fading, but I’m in love again,
I’m dying, without hope, but yearning!
Likewise, the alter flame enfolds the prey
And, turning pale, all of a sudden flashes,
As if reviving on the final day
It withers fading on the ashes.
Изнемогает жизнь в груди моей остылой;
Конец борению; увы! всему конец.
Киприда и Эрот, мучители сердец!
Услышьте голос мой последний и унылый.
Я вяну и ещё мучения терплю:
Полмертвый, но сгараю.
Я вяну, но ещё так пламенно люблю
И без надежды умираю!
Так, жертву обхватив кругом,
На алтаре огонь бледнеет, умирает
И, вспыхнув ярче пред концом,
На пепле погасает.
«The sailors near the port / shouted in chorus, demanding wine, / and over Stambul and over the Bosphorus / the full moon shone. Tonight they will hurl an unfaithful wife / to the bottom of the bay, / a wife who was too beautiful / and looked like the moon. She loved her daydreams, / ...»
«Describing circle after circle, / The wheeling kite looks down upon / A dream-like, empty meadow. A mother / Grieves in the cabin for her son: / “Here, suck this breast, here, take this bread. / Grow up, be humble, trust in God.” The ages pass, endless war rages, / Revolt flares, vi...»
«Over the empty fields a black kite hovers, / And circle after circle smoothly weaves. / In the poor hut, over her son in the cradle / A mother grieves: / “There, suck my brest: there grow and take our bread, / And learn to bear your cross and bow your head.” Time passes. War returns. ...»
«1. Black night. / White snow. / The wind, the wind! / Impossible to stay on your feet. / The wind, the wind! / Blowing across God’s world! The wind swirls round / The clean, white snow. / Under the snow — there’s ice. / It’s sl...»