Chase poems of the night away,
No need for preemies of the spirit:
Since night assists you at their birth,
And night is an atrocious midwife.
You madman! If you really do
Aspire to exalted singing,
Outstubborn, try to overcome
Your momentary excitation.
Know this: the chatter of the night
Will never ever sound like music
Until the lines can feel the coolness
Of day which brings all things to light.
Гони стихи ночные прочь,
Не надо недоносков духа:
Ведь их воспринимает ночь,
А ночь — плохая повитуха.
Безумец! Если ты и впрямь
Высокого возжаждал пенья,
Превозмоги, переупрямь
Свое минутное кипенье.
Пойми: ночная трескотня
Не станет музыкой, покуда
По строкам не пройдет остуда
Всеобнажающего дня.
«I find a sweet fatigue in silence and in dreams, / In languidness of sloth and din of artless chanting, / I find the roostered fringe of towel’s white enchanting – / And all the stern-faced icons’ ancient sooty streams. / Beneath the flyblown fetid rustle turns each day, / Imbued wit...»
«For you with aching hope I shall now wait, / And all this year I’ll wait for you – / Let you alone but sweetly set your bait / With promises for ever too. The silence of sad fate – you are it all. / A random light in dark of earth, / The untold mystery of debauchery’s fall / Tha...»
«A moment’s silver glinted flash – / A roach in river’s moment dreaded / Will weave his fables, silver-threaded. From hill bursts cart in reckless dash, / And through the air his song’s propelling, / And youthful joy in heart is swelling. And sadness. Itches homespun rash. / For s...»
«She came towards me, silent like the moonlit night, / With violet-hooded eyes, like inky night was gazing, / Where soft the gentle dewdrops grass-tipped quivered blazing, / She came towards me – perfectly arrayed, just right, / And soft, she breathed, as the insinuating night. The secret ...»