In the name of the word that, my dear,
Is best one and single for us,
Again fall in love with me here,
And tell me all this and — at once.
Beware! You could loose the right moment!
So, call for, not looking at past,
The proud and happiest load
Of my love’s unusual thrust.
You’ll never find fate more delicious,
Nor heights, deeper sunk in the blue,
Because it contains our last wishes —
The last air to breathe for us two.
Во имя лучшего слова,
одного с тобою у нас,
ты должен
влюбиться снова,
сказать мне об этом сейчас.
Смотри, ты упустишь время!
Тяжелой моей любви
счастливое, гордое бремя,
не медля, обратно зови.
Ты лучшей не сыщешь доли,
высот не найдешь других,
ибо в ней — последняя воля,
последний воздух Двоих.
«Bells ring, moaning, re-intoning. / Tolling sighs, extolling dreams. / Hills are high and overgrown in / Green; with green each sloping gleams. / Walls have a fresh white exterior: / Orders from Mother Superior! / And the sexton’s daughter waits — / Crying at the convent’s gate. ...»
«Let your Mind’s fire break through the roaring, / Just concentrate, forget the past / And try to grasp that a new era / Has come; you’re now the least, the last. And all you knew, all you discovered / In your books’ jungles, your dream’s shout / Lies as a trace that’s hardly not...»
«She stands there with a sly expression, smiling. / Holding a huge scroll in her marble hands. / She notes life, death, and fame in her compiling, / Records all time, all people in all lands. And she (who’s not to blame) gets bored and weary / With fates of slaves, chiefs, races, patriarch...»
«Wedding wreaths crown the mountains. / I’m ecstatic... I’m young. / And all over my mountains / Such a pure chill is hung. And behold — to my rock / Came a gray-haired hunchback, shuffling-stumbling. / And the gift that he brought / Was pineapples from an underground dungeon. O h...»