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.
«There in the land where the waves / break, on empty shores, forever, / and where the moonlight makes / a sweet, warm twilight hour, / where the harem’s languid days / delight the Mussulman, / there an enchantress caressed me, / and gave me this Talisman. And, caressingly, she said /...»
«If desires fly by like shadows, / If vows are empty words, / Is it worth it to live in this fog of delusion, / Is it worth it to live if the truth is dead? Does one need eternity for useless striving, / Does one need eternity for deceptive words? / What is worthy of life lives without dou...»
«Oh, genius of Stratford, return! / Return to your foggy Avon / Where men still are men of grandeur. / Of wisdom — severe and gray. / Return, unexpected as before. / Stride into the world in Brabantine lace, / In an old camisole and high boots / That have been patched on every stage. ...»
«The old man shuffles to the fish market / To buy half a pound of perch. / A mimosa glitters with drops of rain. / The river’s smooth surface gleams. O, these provincial lodgings. / Local voices. The barking of dogs. / Life here consists of food and drink. / A bed. A roof. Tobacco. Vi...»