We have unlearned how to give alms, forgotten
How to breathe the salt air above the sea,
And how to meet the dawn, and in the market
Buy golden lemons for two coins or three.
Ships call on us only by chance, and freight trains
Bring cargoes out of habit, that is all;
Just count the men belonging to my country —
How many dead will answer to the call!
But we have no occasion to be solemn —
A broken knife's no good to work with, but
With the same knife that is all black and broken
Know that immortal pages have been cut.
Мы разучились нищим подавать,
Дышать над морем высотой соленой,
Встречать зарю и в лавках покупать
За медный мусор — золото лимонов.
Случайно к нам заходят корабли,
И рельсы груз проносят по привычке;
Пересчитай людей моей земли —
И сколько мертвых встанет в перекличке.
Но всем торжественно пренебрежем.
Нож сломанный в работе не годится,
Но этим черным, сломанным ножом
Разрезаны бессмертные страницы.
«The fire and the page, the hewed hairs and the swords, / The grains and the millstone, the whispers and the clatter — / God saves all that — especially the words / Of love and pity, as His only way to utter. The harsh pulse pounds and the blood torrent whips, / The spade knocks evenl...»
«I’ve set my folks on a vacation, / From friends I’ve drifted far apart, / And now the permanent dejection / Submerses nature and the heart. Inside this lodge, we’re left alone. / The woods are dreary and remote. / And sprouts of grass, like in the song, / Have overgrown each path ...»
«Cool Water gurgles in the river / and the mountains’ shadow lies on the fields / and light fades in the sky. And birds / are already flying in dreams. / And the yardman with the black moustache / stands all night by the gate / and under his dirty hat he scratches / the back of his he...»
«My talent is pitiful, my voice not loud, / but I am living; somewhere in the world / someone looks kindly on my life; far off / a distant fellow-man will read my words / and find my being; and, who knows, my soul / will raise an echo in his soul, and I / who found a friend in my own time...»