And I need no girl.
By the cold of will,
By the trace of blue
I will alone go.
Widowed and an orphan
You were till I conquered.
By the willing trace
Of rushing spring water.
I'll wash away feats
From the glory, from pus.
In your glory I'll
Give drink to the horse.
Keep, little dove,
The sprouts from hail,
The girl from the serpent,
The hero from the girl.
А девы — не надо.
По вольному хладу,
По синему следу
Один я поеду.
Как был до победы:
Сиротский и вдовый.
По вольному следу
Воды родниковой.
От славы, от гною
Доспехи отмою.
Во славу Твою
Коня напою.
Храни, Голубица,
От града — посевы,
Девицу — от гада,
Героя — от девы.
«Through this day's sweaty fog / Let’s shake this sleepy fiord! — / Hey, Captain! You must take / Me as your aid on board! We will then make our way, / Sail by some ancient tombs, / By churches' old remains, / By human griefs and pains… Unhappy thoughts — be gone! / Tiresome ...»
«Hot is that fog of the day. / Let's shake up sleepy fiord! — / Hey! Captain! Have your say! / Take me the first on board! / Sail, sail, sail / Passing by ancient graves, / Passing by church's frames, / Family conflicts, decays... / Borring thoughts — out of mind! / Laziness ...»
«When a tired day bowed down to the night / The waves fell still, the birds wouldn’t fly, / The sun set down over the hills (what a sight!) / And musingly the moon floated in the sky. / In the vale, the peaceful silvery brook / Babbled sweet nothings to the hushed dale, / While dark for...»
«One still within his lot of years, / O my fate, O sacred one! / I am no wolf, no murderer, / And I honor you, the faithful guardian. Your face has furrowed features but / Your mind’s not dull to the whirl of life. / You, Laërtes, father, I salute, / Ruminative in your homeland’s st...»