Ancient mysteries of nature
Sleep in secret, sacred fields.
Mother Earth! I’m but a stranger
To your endless vales and hills.
Vast of forests, breadth of waters,
Wings are strong below the sun.
But your ages and your wonders
Blur in planets’ endless run.
Not by you, I was anointed,
Not to you, my fate was sworn.
Now my journey is appointed
From the sunset towards dawn.
It’s my destiny to wander
Silent void of heaven blind.
As I rise to endless yonder,
I have nothing left behind.
Yet for you, in starry ether,
Where auroras dream in peace,
My blue eyes will shine forever
Like two moons in the abyss.
Там, где вечно дремлет тайна,
Есть нездешние поля.
Только гость я, гость случайный
На горах твоих, земля.
Широки леса и воды,
Крепок взмах воздушных крыл.
Но века твои и годы
Затуманил бег светил.
Не тобой я поцелован,
Не с тобой мой связан рок.
Новый путь мне уготован
От захода на восток.
Суждено мне изначально
Возлететь в немую тьму.
Ничего я в час прощальный
Не оставлю никому.
Но за мир твой, с выси звездной,
В тот покой, где спит гроза,
В две луны зажгу над бездной
Незакатные глаза.
«This spring there is a change in everything. / More lively is the sparrows' riot. / I shall not even try to tell of it, / How bright my soul is and how quiet. My thoughts and writings are quite different, / And from the choir's loud octaves singing / The mighty voice of earth is audible /...»
«The drowsy garden scatters insects / Bronze as the ash from braziers blown. / Level with me and with my candle, / Hang flowering worlds, their leaves full grown. As into some unheard-of dogma / I move across into this night. / Where a worn poplar age has grizzled / Screens the moon’s ...»
«Without an accoucheuse, in darkness, pushing her / Blind hands against the night, the Ural fastness, torn and / Half-dead with agony, was screaming in a blur / Of mindless pain, as she was giving birth to morning. And brushed by chance, tall ranges far and wide / Loosed toppling bronze pell...»
«How many buds, how many sticky butts / Of candles, April kindled, now are glued / Fast to the boughs! The park is redolent / Of puberty. The woods' retorts are rude. The forest's throat is caught in a thick knot / Of feathered throats: a lassoed buffalo / Bellowing in the nets as organs p...»