It's Hell for us to draw the fetters
Of life in alienation, stiff.
All people prefer to share gladness,
And nobody — to share grief.
As a king of air, I'm lone here,
The pain lives in my heart, so grim,
And I can see that, to the fear
Of fate, years pass me by like dreams;
And comes again with, touched by gold,
The same dream, gloomy one and old.
I see a coffin, black and sole,
It waits: why to detain the world?
There will be not a sad reflection,
There will be (I am betting on)
Much more gaily celebration
When I am dead, than — born.
Как страшно жизни сей оковы
Нам в одиночестве влачить.
Делить веселье — все готовы:
Никто не хочет грусть делить.
Один я здесь, как царь воздушный,
Страданья в сердце стеснены,
И вижу, как судьбе послушно,
Года уходят, будто сны;
И вновь приходят, с позлащенной,
Но той же старою мечтой,
И вижу гроб уединенный,
Он ждёт; что ж медлить над землей?
Никто о том не покрушится,
И будут (я уверен в том)
О смерти больше веселиться,
Чем о рождении моём...
«We chant and enchant, / oh charming enchantment! / No raving, no ranting, / no canting enchantment! / This ranting enchantress / has cast her enchantment — / we see what her chant meant! / Here rant! There cant! / You charming enchanter, / cast out her enchantment, / uncast it,...»
«I find the weather absolutely enchanting — / and give me leave — your darling little hand, / to help transpose an accent — elegantly does it, / So! Like this, then: death in a basket! En basquette! / There by the roadside: what whiteness, looming / in the gloaming? Is that a tree? Or...»
«Brooding, dark, and elegant — / Stranger, aren't you the man / who frightened the children yesterday? / "Mama!" they shouted, "he's wicked!" and ran. You went to visit my sweetheart / where she took the evening air, / said: "Permit me to introduce myself..." / And laughed: "...how be...»
«OK, Graylegs, time to set the plow / aside. Rainstorm lashes our faces. / Time to turn back to the barn, / to dinner, dreams, and darkness.»