Love neighbors as thyself, they say...
But me myself despise.
While yearning for ethereal,
I see my truths and lies.
And if I ever loved someone,
I only had in mind
To find the innocence of heart,
A ray of truth divine.
But after sobering from dreams,
In foreign souls I saw
The mirrored passions of my whims,
The stain of all my flaws,
My own lies, the shame of all my trials.
And while for all I equally bemoan,
I hate them all,
As I despise my own.
Любить других, как самого себя...
Но сам себя презреньем я караю.
Какой-то сон божественный любя,
В себе и ложь и правду презираю.
И если человека я любил,
То лишь в надежде смутной и чудесной
Найти в другом луч истины небесной,
Невинность сердца, мыслей чистых пыл.
Но каждый раз, очнувшись от мечтаний,
В чужой душе все глубже и ясней
Я прозревал клеймо своих страстей,
Свою же ложь, позор своих страданий.
И всех людей, равно за всех скорбя,
Я не люблю, как самого себя.
«I come again with greetings new, / To tell you day is well begun; / To say the leaves are fresh with dew / And dappled in the early sun; To tell you how the forest stirs / In every branch of every brake, / And what an April thirst is hers, / With every whistling bird awake; To say, as ...»
«The embers sink to ashes. In the dusk / A small transparent flame is wavering; / Thus on a scarlet poppy will a moth / Flutter an azure wing. Drawn by a train of motley images, / The tired gaze is charmed, while all unclear, / Faces that alter as they flash and fade, / From the gray ash...»
«I know what fainting means, the heady sweetness / When the pain stops and dark comes in its stead; / And so quite fearlessly I can await you, / You night without a dawn, eternal bed. Your hand may touch my head, and from life’s records / You may expunge me, but I testify, / Before that ...»
«The wave knows no contentment / When parted from the sea, / Whether it rises gently / Or rushes savagely; It sighs ever and grumbles, / And whether bond or free, / It hungers for the boundless, / The fathomless blue sea.»