Am I dreaming, or really and truly
It was I, who in bed so unruly,
Laughed so loud for the first time one night
Not aware I was only a mite?
The days were too brief in duration,
And the longest seemed always too short —
My plans would be doomed to frustration,
Games unfinished and fights left unfought.
And I still go to bed under pressure,
In the calm of the night find no pleasure.
And in sleep I still see my worst foe
Just as three score and ten years ago.
Неужели я тот же самый,
Что, в постель не ложась упрямо,
Слышал первый свой громкий смех
И не знал, что я меньше всех.
И всегда-то мне дня было мало,
Даже в самые долгие дни,
Для всего, что меня занимало, —
Дружбы, драки, игры, беготни.
Да и нынче борюсь я с дремотой,
И ложусь до сих пор с неохотой,
И покою ночному не рад,
Как две трети столетья назад.
«In my night-time fever / I see you, O / Winged Victory of Samothrace, / reaching out your arms. First night-silence runs / from you, then your blind / inexorable driving flight / brings giddiness, whirling sick. Your crazy-bright eyes / laugh, and blaze, / and our shadows run behin...»
«At my window pane / A somber birch tree / Is newly adorned / By the frost’s whimsy. It’s like bunches of grapes / That hang from branch tips — / And the mournful shapes / Are a joy to contemplate. I watch the daylight spread / To play along the branches; / But when birds alig...»
«Storms in the evening skies, / The din of a sea gone mad / Storms on the sea and broodings, / Heavy the pain as I brood — / Storms on the sea and broodings, / Whose chorus broods and grows loud — / Black cloud rears from black cloud, / The din of a sea gone mad.»
«As people sleep, my dear, let’s go to the shady garden. / As people sleep, only on us the stars are gazing. / But they can neither see us under the branching trees / Nor hear us — only the single nightingale hears... / But even he doesn’t hear — his song’s too loud; / The only th...»