The barren slope of the meandering valley
Is overgrown with hoary, wiry grass.
Spurge shows up white. Eroded beds of clay
Reveal the sparkling lead and shale and mica.
The water-worn and slaty walls sprout capers;
A crevice clasps the olive’s withered trunk;
Above the hill, the violet Karadag
Rears up his summits in a jagged ridge.
The sultriness has wrapped the hills in haze.
The fumes of grass, mercurial reflections,
The screams of cicadae and birds of prey —
Make dull the senses, cause the heat to quaver...
And yonder, through their yawning orbits, gaze
The trampled-out eyes of a colossal Face.
Травою жёсткою, пахучей и седой
Порос бесплодный скат извилистой долины.
Белеет молочай. Пласты размытой глины
Искрятся грифелем, и сланцем, и слюдой.
По стенам шифера, источенным водой,
Побеги каперсов; иссохший ствол маслины;
А выше за холмом лиловые вершины
Подъемлет Карадаг зубчатою стеной.
И этот тусклый зной, и горы в дымке мутной,
И запах душных трав, и камней отблеск ртутный,
И злобный крик цикад, и клёкот хищных птиц —
Мутят сознание. И зной дрожит от крика…
И там — во впадинах зияющих глазниц
Огромный взгляд растоптанного Лика.
«He who will dare our union mar / deserves e the most severe sentence, / I wouldn’t give a grey guitar / for his damned life and his repentance. / / So fervently the age intends / to knock us down with a feather... / Let’s join our hands my dear friends, / we won’t get lost, if...»
«to Y. Kim What can I do for you, grasshopper, dear, / when with your song of praise you get ahead? / It cures one of grief, just lend an ear, / just listen, and it will revive the dead. / / You touch a string, I wonder how you make it, / so that the chorus suddenly joins in, / myster...»
«After rain the sky / is so vast and clear / both the brass and dew / are as bright as day. / Sounds of flute and horn, / flowing, reach my ear, / the conductor is / up to fly away. / / Brass-bands of the past / in my heart resound, / not the war time bands, / but from peacef...»
«The tune swayed up and down, forward, backward, / reminding of a boat on raging waves; / the old street-organ playing in the backyard / presented me with sadness and great pains. / / I was about to begin to cry / when suddenly I clearly made out / the happy, joyous and delighted sound...»