Don’t seduce me into captivity,
Don’t entice me with hearth and home,
Don’t immure me living and breathing
Inside four walls.
There’s no chamber for which a poet
Would exchange her homelessness, –
That’s why the cuckoo cuckoos
That she hasn’t got a nest.
Ты уютом меня не приваживай,
Не заманивай в душный плен,
Не замуровывай заживо
Меж четырех стен.
Нет палаты такой, на какую
Променял бы бездомность поэт, —
Оттого-то кукушка кукует,
Что гнезда у нее нет.
«Record for the Gramophone How dusty and red hot this street is! / O Lord, what a sad pine tree! / The balcony is under a roof. The wife is winding yarn. / The husband is just sitting. Behind them is canvas like a sail. / Their balcony is built over the very flower bed. / “You think it...»
«The river still does not reign, but it / Is already melting the blue ice; the clouds / Are still not dispersing, but the snowy / Goblet has been drained by the sun... You make your heart anxious with a rustling / Through a half closed door... You are / Still not in love, but you may be su...»
«I look at you with indifference, and I / Can’t soothe the anguish in my heart... / Today it is wearisomely oppressive. / But the sun has hidden in haze. I know that I cherish a dream, yet at / Least I am faithful to dreams — but you? / The dying leaves will fall into the / Avenue as...»
«Among the worlds, in the stars’ twinkling / I repeat one Star’s name... / Not because I would love Her, / But because with others I pine away. And if doubt weighs heavily on me, / I entreat an answer from Her alone... / Not because brightness comes from Her, / But because with Her n...»