My dry and dreary life
Fire has burned down
Not a stone but tree
I am singing now.
It is light and rough;
From a single piece
Come the fisher's oars
And the oak pith.
Nail the pilings tighter,
Knock, hammers, with all might,
About the wooden heaven
Where everything is light.
Уничтожает пламень
Сухую жизнь мою, —
И ныне я не камень,
А дерево пою.
Оно легко и грубо,
Из одного куска
И сердцевина дуба,
И весла рыбака.
Вбивайте крепче сваи,
Стучите, молотки,
О деревянном рае,
Где вещи так легки!
«Rock and rock me, starry boat! / My head is weary of breaking waves! For too long I’ve lost my moorings, — / My head is weary of thinking: Of hymns — of laurels — of heroes — of hydras, — / My head is weary of pretensions! Lay me out among grasses and pine-needles, — / My he...»
«How this matter came to an end / Neither love nor friendship can say. / With every passing day you reply less directly, / With every passing day you disappear more deeply. Until, you’re undisturbed by anything now, / — Only the tree riffles its branches — / As if you’ve fallen int...»
«Early yet — to no longer be! / Early yet — to no longer burn! / Tenderness! A brutal lash / Of Underworld encounters. However deep your inclination — / The sky — is a fathomless vat! / O, for such a love it’s / Early yet — to not feel wounded! Life is alive with jealousy! /...»
«I’ll be late to our fixed / Appointment. Having stopped spring / In time, into the bargain — I’ll be grey. / You’ve fixated too much on this! I’ll walk for years — and never falter / In my Ophelia’s taste for bitter rue! / I’ll walk through hills — and hayricks, / I’...»