When I watch the flight of leaves,
To the cobblestones at my feet,
Swept up — as if by an artist,
Whose picture’s at last complete,
I think how (already no one likes
My figure, face deep in thought)
A strongly yellow, decidedly rusty,
Leaf, there at the crown’s — forgot.
Когда я гляжу на летящие листья,
Слетающие на булыжный торец,
Сметаемые — как художника кистью,
Картину кончающего наконец,
Я думаю (уж никому не по нраву
Ни стан мой, ни весь мой задумчивый вид),
Что явственно жёлтый, решительно ржавый
Один такой лист на вершине — забыт.
«Upon an amber day I loved you first, / When, summoned by the radiant azure, / From every grateful twig there burst / Sweet indolence in dripping measure. Your whitely shining body gleamed as white / As heady foam on lakes unfolding, / Gay laughing Lei drew ou...»
«Among the glaucous waves that kiss gold Tauris' beaches / I saw a Nereid, as dawn flushed heaven's reaches. / I barely dared to breathe, hid in the olive trees, / While the young demigoddess rose above the seas; / Her young, her swan-white breast above the waters lifting, / From her soft h...»
«With freedom's seed the desert sowing, / I walked before the morning star; / From pure and guiltless fingers throwing— / Where slavish plows had left a scar— / The fecund seed, the procreator; / Oh vain and sad disseminator, / I learned then what lost labors are.... Graze if you wil...»
«The stove is orphaned now; the old housewife has died, / The trivet tells the pot with tears; their talk is harried. / Behind the pane two trustful magpies, side by side, / Chirp: "May is near, today the finches will be married, Smith Woodpecker with busy knocking has stripped his throat, ...»