Strong and wealthy have a hard time,
It is hard to all the lords.
I won't lower the light eyes
A red soldier before.
City's moaning and carousing,
Moon in cloud made of wine.
Not a living soul will touch me:
Poor and arrogant am I.
Плохо сильным и богатым,
Тяжко барскому плечу.
А вот я перед солдатом
Светлых глаз не опущу.
Город буйствует и стонет,
В винном облаке — луна.
А меня никто не тронет:
Я надменна и бедна.
«Where the earth is seered, / in the sky's misty haze disappears, / in carefree gaiety / lives pitiful insanity. Beneath rays which burn, / digging into flaming sands, / his glassy gaze is turned / to seek things far above the land. Suddenly he'll leap, wary as a beast, / press...»
«I yearn to live in wild extremes, / Perpetuating things and places / And incarnating all that's faceless — / To carry out all broken dreams. And while life’s nightmare chokes, persisting, / And in my sleep I suffocate, / Perhaps the future, near or distant / Will bring a glad lad, w...»
«May be, in my previous a-being, / I’ve cut the throats of my Mom and Dad, / If in this one — Lord of all the living! — / I have been doomed to suffering like that. If I call for dogs of mine, aloud, / Or just try my own horse to see, / Not obeying all my signs and shouts, / The...»
«In my night-time fever / I see you, O / Winged Victory of Samothrace, / reaching out your arms. First night-silence runs / from you, then your blind / inexorable driving flight / brings giddiness, whirling sick. Your crazy-bright eyes / laugh, and blaze, / and our shadows run behin...»