A young wizard in a purple robe
Was performing an unchanted art.
Front of the Queen of Vices he showed
Rubies of precious craft.
A scent of burning exquisite herbs
Opened spaces of no bound...
Taking shapes of fishes or birds
Gloomy shadows rushed around.
Invisible strings cried aloud,
Pillars of flame appeared ablaze.
Tribunes of War stood tall and proud
Yet looking as humble slaves.
And the Queen, evoking a secret passion,
Played with the soul of the world unclad.
Or her silken, snowy skin complexion
Drove the youthful wizard so mad...
For the sake of her amusement given,
He forgot what other things existed.
Those little breasts he mostly revered
And the bracelets on her slender wrists.
The young wizard in a purple robe
Spoke as if dead: he didn't breath
Everything to the Queen he showed
What his soul was living with.
On the emerald waters of Nile
The crescent trembled pale and dim,
And the Queen with mesmerized smile
Scarlet flower dropped for him.
Юный маг в пурпуровом хитоне
Говорил нездешние слова,
Перед ней, царицей беззаконий,
Расточал рубины волшебства.
Аромат сжигаемых растений
Открывал пространства без границ,
Где носились сумрачные тени,
То на рыб похожи, то на птиц.
Плакали невидимые струны,
Огненные плавали столбы,
Гордые военные трибуны
Опускали взоры, как рабы.
А царица, тайное тревожа,
Мировой играла крутизной,
И ее атласистая кожа
Опьяняла снежной белизной.
Отданный во власть ее причуде,
Юный маг забыл про все вокруг,
Он смотрел на маленькие груди,
На браслеты вытянутых рук.
Юный маг в пурпуровом хитоне
Говорил, как мертвый, не дыша,
Отдал все царице беззаконий,
Чем была жива его душа.
А когда на изумрудах Нила
Месяц закачался и поблек,
Бледная царица уронила
Для него алеющий цветок.
«(i.) Thou earth with guile and irksome woe, / Art yet a mother unto me! / Mute mother mine, I love thee so, / Thou earth with guile and irksome woe! / How sweet in earth's embrace to be, / Nestling to her when May's aglow! / Thou earth with guile and irksome woe, / Art yet a mother un...»
«In this hour when darkened skies arc by the awful thunder rent, / In this hour when shakes our dwelling to its very fundament, / In this hour when every hope and every love are in despair, / When the mightiest in spirit purse the brow in restless care / In this hour your hearts shall rouse ...»
«Evil dragon, 'mid the zenith hotly burning, / Thou, who all about thee, fiery threads art turning, / With a stifling hotness parching all the valley, — / Evil dragon, lo, too speedy is thy rapture / O'er thy victory; for, compassing thy capture, / From my dark, deep quiver, poisoned barb...»
«Over the river the hazes that flow / 'Neath the moon in the lonesome night, / They beset me with hate, and they bring me delight / For the stillness thereof and the woe. Forgotten the beauty of day, / And thro' mist I stealthily pace, / A track scarce beheld, in my travail I trace / And...»