I'll say this in a whisper, in draft,
because it's early yet:
we have to pay
with experience and sweat
to learn the sky's free play.
And under purgatory's temporal sky
we easily forget:
the dome of heaven
is a home
to praise forever, wherever.
Я скажу это начерно, шопотом
Потому что еще не пора:
Достигается потом и опытом
Безотчетного неба игра.
И под временным небом чистилища
Забываем мы часто о том,
Что счастливое небохранилище —
Раздвижной и прижизненный дом.
«In broad-brimmed hats, wearing long coats, / With notebooks full of your poems, / You have scattered long since into dust / Like branches of dry lilac. You are in the country without ready-made shapes, / Where all is disjointed, mixed up, broken, / Where instead of the sky there is o...»
«Time’s river in its rushing course / carries away all human things, / drowns in oblivion’s abyss / peoples and kingdoms and their kings. And if the trumpet or the lyre / should rescue something, small or great, / eternity will gulp it down / and it will share the common fate.»
«O Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright / All space doth occupy, all motions guide; / Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight; / Thou only God! There is no God beside! / Being of all beings! Mighty One! / Whom none could comprehend and none explore; / Who fillst existence with ...»
«I do not regret, complain, or weep, / All passes, like smoke off the white apple trees. / Autumn’s gold has me in its withering grip. / I shall never be young again. My heart has felt the chill, / It no longer beats as it once did. / The birch woods cotton print / No more tempts me to...»