And the next time, a deaf-mute —
I will come to a world where I give a poem to everyone, give everyone my hearing.
Indeed it’s all the same — what they say — I don’t understand.
Indeed it’s all the same — who can make it out? — what I say.
Forbid me God — again Corinna
arrives in this region, where people are harder than ice, ice floes harder than cliffs.
Like a deaf-mute — with such a long
braid—down to the floor! — so long
you wouldn’t recognize her.
А следующий раз — глухонемая
Приду на свет, где всем свой стих дарю, свой слух дарю.
Ведь всё равно — что говорят - не понимаю.
Ведь всё равно — кто разберёт? - что говорю.
Бог упаси меня — опять Коринной
В сей край придти, где люди твёрже льдов,
а льдины — скал.
Глухонемою — и с такою длинной —
— Вот — до полу — косой, чтоб не узнал!
«The light will burn and darken, then burn with stronger blaze, / But unreturning darkens the sheen of youthful days. / Glow then, and be enkindled, the while thou still art young, / Let ever more undwindled the heart's loud chords be strung, / That something be remembered in waning years of ...»
«O waves of the ocean, akin to the blood in my veins, / Ye ever unfettered are coursing to other domains, / Ye ever are lonely in chillness of ebb and of flow, / And, — alone or united, — we pine in uncomforted woe. / Why may I not breathe and course on as a wave of the sea? / On earth ...»
«Strait the passage, slender, long, / Reaching depths where visions throng. / Sinking down, you turn your eyes / Where an ice-wrought castle lies. When from here you sink below, / Twinkling shafts of colour glow; / Someone's peeping eyes are seen — / Adamant and moonstone sheen. There...»
«Tender-grey the day was, grey as sorrow, and / Pallid grew the evening, like a woman's hand. In the house at evening they had hid their hearts, / Faint with tender sorrow, — grief that ne'er departs. Hands were clasped together, eyes forebore to meet, / Unto glistening shoulders laughing l...»