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.
«"I had been leaving coast of misty Albion." / How divine they are — this sadness and this height! / I see the dingy waves fall down and rise on, / The dingy firmament... I know that all by hart. I see the youth that leaned upon the high mast's rope, / As beautiful as if he were by fairie...»
«I’ll die at dawn or daybreak! But at which of these lines, / Which I’ll die with — no decision by orders’ receiving! / Oh, if my torch would be blessed to extinguish two times — / So as to die with the light of the morning and evening! The heaven’s daughter has passed with her gai...»
«I know the only truth! The others — cast aside! / There’s no need for the men of Earth to fight with others! / Look, there’s the evening soon and soon it’ll be the night. / What you about, colonels, poets, lovers? Now wind is near the soil and dew lay on the grass, / The starry bli...»
«A fire, a sword, doing you awful harm? / No! These words are too loud and shabby! / A pain, well-known like to eyes — a palm, / Like to lips — a name of a dear baby.»