Like a belated gift,
Winter’s palpable to me:
and I’m in love with
it’s first uncertain sweep.
It’s terror’s beautiful,
like the start of what’s dreadful:
even the ravens fearful
of its leafless circle.
But most intense, fragile –
is its bulging blueness:
half-formed ice, that fills
the river, lulling, sleepless…
Как подарок запоздалый
Ощутима мной зима:
Я люблю ее сначала
Неуверенный размах.
Хороша она испугом,
Как начало грозных дел, —
Перед всем безлесным кругом
Даже ворон оробел.
Но сильней всего непрочно-
Выпуклых голубизна —
Полукруглый лед височный
Речек, бающих без сна...
«Scorching, as hot tar: / Unendurable a second time! / My brother, with so / Strange an admixture Of discord... (The sound / Of a torn branch comes here?) / My brother, suddenly setting / Like so many suns! My brother, with no other sisters: / Made entirely my own! / Up to your fune...»
«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...»