Soon from swallows — into sorcerers!
Youth! We will say farewell before then...
We will stand in the wind soul to soul!
My tan one! My sister console!
With a skirt of raspberry flare,
You my youth! My dove you are
Tan! Waste of my soul!
You my youth! Dance and console!
Wash me with a shawl of azure,
My insane one! We have played with you
For a plenty! Dance a while and spar!
My gold — farewell — amber!
For a reason your arms touch I,
Like to a lover I say goodbye.
Torn away from depths within my breast —
My youth! Go to someone else!
Скоро уж из ласточек — в колдуньи!
Молодость! Простимся накануне…
Постоим с тобою на ветру!
Смуглая моя! Утешь сестру!
Полыхни малиновою юбкой,
Молодость моя! Моя голубка
Смуглая! Раззор моей души!
Молодость моя! Утешь, спляши!
Полосни лазоревою шалью,
Шалая моя! Пошалевали
Досыта с тобой! — Спляши, ошпарь!
Золотце моё — прощай — янтарь!
Неспроста руки твоей касаюсь,
Как с любовником с тобой прощаюсь.
Вырванная из грудных глубин —
Молодость моя! — Иди к другим!
____
Молодость. 1. Молодость моя! Моя чужая...
Молодость. 2. Скоро уж из ласточек — в колдуньи!..
«O Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright / All space doth occupy, all motions guide; / Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight; / Thou only God! There is no God beside! / Being of all beings! Mighty One! / Whom none could comprehend and none explore; / Who fillst existence with ...»
«I do not regret, complain, or weep, / All passes, like smoke off the white apple trees. / Autumn’s gold has me in its withering grip. / I shall never be young again. My heart has felt the chill, / It no longer beats as it once did. / The birch woods cotton print / No more tempts me to...»
«From the start, each living thing’s / Got its own mark upon it. / I’d have been a thief and a cheat / If I’d not turned out a poet. Scrawny and undersized, / Always the hero of the gang, / I’d often come back home / With my nose bashed in. And when my scared mother saw me, / ...»
«Only one final trick remains — / To stick my fingers in my mouth, / And whistle! Now my evil name — / Foul-mouthed brawler—has got about. Ah, how farcical this waste was! / Farcical waste in life’s not new. / Ashamed I once believed in God, / I’m bitter I no longer do. Ah, yo...»