Here's your roses — pull your hands toward them —
Having gone farther than the sea, dear friend!
My dear friend, having with you born out
The most precious treasures of the land.
I am robbed and deceived — There's no letter,
No ring in my memory!
How the features are memorable to me
Of your face, wondering for centuries.
How memorable is the asking, attentive
Stare — inviting to sit near —
And the worldy flattery of the dying
And the smile from the great Afar —
My dear friend, gone to sailing eternally —
A fresh hillock among other mounds!
Pray that there will not be other sailors
Ensconced in your heavenly sound.
7
Милый друг, ушедший дальше, чем за́ море!
Вот Вам розы — протянитесь на них.
Милый друг, унесший самое, самое
Дорогое из сокровищ земных.
Я обманута и я обокрадена, —
Нет на память ни письма, ни кольца!
Как мне памятна малейшая впадина
Удивлённого — навеки — лица.
Как мне памятен просящий и пристальный
Взгляд — поближе приглашающий сесть,
И улыбка из великого Издали, —
Умирающего светская лесть…
Милый друг, ушедший в вечное плаванье,
— Свежий холмик меж других бугорков! —
Помолитесь обо мне в райской гавани,
Чтобы не было других моряков.
«A day of heat. The woods burning. Time / Hanging heavy. From a neighboring plot / A cock was crowing. I went through the gate. / There, on the bench, his back against the fence, / A wandering Serb, dark-skinned and lean, sat dozing. / A heavy silver crucifix hung down / Among the rolling...»
«The snow has drifted. Quietness descends. / Blind walls beside the alley here, and empty ground. / Here comes a man. To take the knife and stab him now! / — Without a sound he’ll lean against the fence, / Then slowly sink onto his knees, and lie face down. / The snowy breath that stirs...»
«I I had lots of fun today: / First the thief who pinched a pullet / From that hag across the way; / Then the horse — they tried to pull it — / Jumped and bolted like a bullet; / And the kite has flown away. But — the thief is no more free, / They have locked him in a cell; / Fo...»
«Twilight was turning to darkness outside. / Under the eaves a window banged wide. A curtain was lifted, a light briefly shone, / A swift shadow fell down the wall and was gone. Happy the man who falls head first to death: / At least for a moment his viewpoint is fresh.»