I’ll tell you bluntly
One last time:
It’s only maddening cherry brandy,
Angel mine!
Where the Greeks saw just their raped
Beauty’s fame,
At me through black holes gaped
Only shame.
But the Greeks hauled Helen home
In their ships.
Here a smidgen of salty foam
Flecks my lips.
What rubs my lips and leaves no trace?
Vacancy.
What thrusts a finger in my face?
Vagrancy.
Quickly, wholly, or slowly as a snail,
All the same,
Mary angel, drink your cocktail,
Down your wine.
I’ll tell you bluntly
One last time:
It’s only maddening cherry brandy,
Angel mine!
Ma voix aigre et fausse...
P. Verlain
[Мой голос пронзительный и фальшивый...
П. Верлен (фр.).]
Я скажу тебе с последней
Прямотой:
Всё лишь бредни — шерри-бренди, —
Ангел мой.
Там, где эллину сияла
Красота,
Мне из чёрных дыр зияла
Срамота.
Греки сбондили Елену
По волна́м,
Ну, а мне — солёной пеной
По губам.
По губам меня помажет
Пустота,
Строгий кукиш мне покажет
Нищета.
Ой ли, так ли, дуй ли, вей ли —
Всё равно;
Ангел Мэри, пей коктейли,
Дуй вино.
Я скажу тебе с последней
Прямотой:
Всё лишь бредни — шерри-бренди, —
Ангел мой.
«You will think about her as about your first bride, / To the point of tears in your dreams. / We did not inhale her fragrance together, / And you did not bring her to me. She was brought to me / By that winged ruler of gods and muses, / When the peals of the first thunder / Glorified ou...»
«In every day there is such / A murky and irksome hour. / I speak loudly to melancholy, / Not having opened my sleepy eyes. / And it pulsates like blood, / Like the sigh of warmth, / Like happy love, / Smart and evil.»
«There is an utter mark in the people's nearness, / Which can't be crossed by love and passion, — / But in the striking silence lips become one / And the heart is torn apart by love. And here friendship is helpless, / And the mountain of high and flaming happiness, / When the soul is fre...»
«Wild honey the scent of freedom has, / Dust — the sunshine beam, / Violet — the mouth of a girl, / And gold — has nothing. Minionette, the scent of water / And love — the apple. / But forever we learnt, / That blood has but the scent of blood.»