Florence was my stepmother,
But I came to rest in Ravenna,
Passer-by, speak not of betrayal,
Let death seal such events.
Above my white-washed tomb
A pigeon coos, sweet bird,
I dream only of my city,
To her alone keep my word.
Songs played with a broken lute
Sound different on foreign trips,
Tuscany, my sorrow,
Why kiss my orphaned lips.
The pigeon flees from my roof-top,
Fearing something in the sky,
An evil shadow of enemy wings
Circles above where I lie.
Sound the alarm, bell-ringer!
Remember, the world still foams with blood!
I came to rest in Ravenna,
But I'll find no peace in this mud.
Мне мачехой Флоренция была,
Я пожелал покоиться в Равенне.
Не говори, прохожий, о измене,
Пусть даже смерть клеймит ее дела.
Над белой усыпальницей моей
Воркует голубь, сладостная птица,
Но родина и до сих пор мне снится,
И до сих пор я верен только ей.
Разбитой лютни не берут в поход,
Она мертва среди родного стана.
Зачем же ты, печаль моя, Тоскана,
Целуешь мой осиротевший рот?
А голубь рвется с крыши и летит,
Как будто опасается кого-то,
И злая тень чужого самолета
Свои круги над городом чертит.
Так бей, звонарь, в свои колокола!
Не забывай, что мир в кровавой пене!
Я пожелал покоиться в Равенне,
Но и Равенна мне не помогла.
«The hour of the soul 1 In the dark night of the soul, / Un-reckoned by any clock, / I gazed into the eyes of a boy, / Un-reckoned in the nights Of anyone yet, like two ponds / — Unclouded by memory and brimming — In repose... / At this point / Your li...»
«The hour of the soul 2 In the dark hour of the soul, / In the dark — of night... / (The gigantic footstep of the soul, / Of the soul at night) At that hour, soul, take control / Of those worlds, where you want / To rule — mansion of the soul, / Soul, of that, take control. Redden...»
«The hour of the soul 3 There’s an hour of the Soul, like the hour of the Moon, / Of an owl — the hour, of mist — the hour, of darkness — / The hour... Hour of the Soul — like the hour of the harp-string / Of David through the dreams Of Saul... At that hour, tremble, / Vanity, an...»
«Maternally — in a dream — with my ear. / As for you, I am inclined to rumor, / As is my soul — to your suffering: a fever? yes? / As for you, I am inclined to your face, Measuring the up — per reaches of your forehead. / As for you, I am inclined to your blood, / To your heart, ...»