Yesterday’s rain hasn’t dried away yet.
Green water soaks the grass...
The forsaken fields are filled with melancholy.
And orache plants are drooping.
I wander in the streets, over puddles,
The autumn day is both timid and wild.
And in every man I meet on my way
I want to discern your dear face.
You are ever more mysterious and beautiful,
Gazing into the unclear horizon.
For you there’s only our happiness
And my faithful comradeship.
And if death, following God’s will
Were to close your eyes with its hand,
I swear that like a shadow in an open field
I would follow death and you.
Ещё не высох дождь вчерашний —
В траве зелёная вода!
Тоскуют брошенные пашни,
И вянет, вянет лебеда.
Брожу по улицам и лужам,
Осенний день пуглив и дик.
И в каждом встретившемся муже
Хочу постичь твой милый лик.
Ты всё загадочней и краше
Глядишь в неясные края.
О, для тебя лишь счастье наше
И дружба верная моя.
И если смерть по Божьей воле
Смежит глаза твои рукой,
Клянусь, что тенью в чистом поле
Пойду за смертью и тобой.
«I loved him / With fire hotter than the noonday sun; / I loved him as I could no other, / Never, never! Only with him / Did I live in this world; / I gave him my soul, / I gave him my life! What means the night, the moon, / When I am waiting for my love! / Cold, drained of all feel...»
«Sleep has not touched my eyes / When the first gleam of daylight / Steals through the window-pane... Fighting with dismal night-time thoughts / My troubled mind tosses and turns, / My heart is tormented. My heart is tormented... Peace be with you, / My heart, full of anguish! / Peace ...»
«Midnight phantoms hover / Glittering bright with sparks in the darkness. / But my eyes cannot make out / How many of them, on their ominous wings. Midnight phantoms groan / Like a sick man in exhausted sleep, / They rise to the surface, and groan and sink again –— / But what are the...»
«A golden cloud spent the night / Resting on the breast of the giant crag; / Come the morning, it darted away, / Airily playing in the breeze. But it left behind a patch of moisture / In a crevice of the ancient rock. / Alone it stands, the mighty crag, as deep in thought, / It quietly ...»