Ocean blue jersey and the eyes dark blue.
To my sweatheart, really, told I no truth.
She asked, "If the blizzard whirling outside?
It's time to make the bed now and the fire to light.
And I answered, "Darling, someone, from the hight,
Is sheding the white flowers to enjoy the sight.
Yes, you light the fire and you make the bed,
Without you my darling, my heart is snowy sad."
Голубая кофта. Синие глаза.
Никакой я правды милой не сказал.
Милая спросила: «Крутит ли метель?
Затопить бы печку, постелить постель».
Я ответил милой: «Нынче с высоты
Кто-то осыпает белые цветы.
Затопи ты печку, постели постель,
У меня на сердце без тебя метель».
«Dreadful! It drips and it listens — / whether it's all alone in the world / crushing a twig like lace at the window, / or is someone watching? Palpable, though, is the pressure / of porous earth's taut swellings, / and far off, audible as in August, / midnight ripens in fields. No, n...»
«The terrible! — After each drop, it stays / All ears: is it sole still, trying / To squeeze the branches like wrinkled lace, / Or is a witness prying? But, choking out loud from the heavy weight / Of swelling, the spongy soil widens, / And heard far away, as in August late, / The ...»
«At twilight the swifts have no way / Of stemming the cool blue cascade. / It bursts from clamouring throats, / A torrent that cannot be stayed. At twilight the swifts have no way / Of holding back, high overhead, / Their clarion shouting: Oh, triumph, / Look, look, how the earth has fle...»
«No one will be in the house / But twilight. Just the same / Winter day in the gap / The gathered curtains frame. Only swiftly beating wings / Of white flakes as they fall. / Only roofs and snow, and but / For roofs and snow — no one at all. And frost again will start too sketch. / ...»