A golden cloud at evening came
To sleep upon the mountain’s breast.
And, merrily, at dawn she left the crest
To wander in the sky, aflame.
A trace of dew, of night’s caress,
He looms as in a dream, alone,
And softly weeps the mountain lone
Within the wilderness.
Ночевала тучка золотая
На груди утеса-великана,
Утром в путь она умчалась рано,
По лазури весело играя.
Но остался влажный след в морщине
Старого утеса. Одиноко
Он стоит, задумался глубоко,
И тихонько плачет он в пустыне.
«When midnight has come on the desolate slough, / Scarce heard are the reeds, so softly they sough. Of what do they whisper and talk to and fro? / For what are the flamelets amongst them aglow? They shimmer, they glimmer, and once more they wane, / Then the wandering light is enkindled again....»
«I came into this world to see the sunshine, / The sky-line's bluish lights. / I came into this world to see the sunshine, / And mountain-heights. I came into this world to see the ocean, / The valley's rich array. / I in a single gaze saw worlds in mo...»
«The light will burn and darken, then burn with stronger blaze, / But unreturning darkens the sheen of youthful days. / Glow then, and be enkindled, the while thou still art young, / Let ever more undwindled the heart's loud chords be strung, / That something be remembered in waning years of ...»
«O waves of the ocean, akin to the blood in my veins, / Ye ever unfettered are coursing to other domains, / Ye ever are lonely in chillness of ebb and of flow, / And, — alone or united, — we pine in uncomforted woe. / Why may I not breathe and course on as a wave of the sea? / On earth ...»