Radiant ranks of seraphim
Stir the air about our bed.
With their windy wings and dim
Our hot cheeks are comforted.
Low the circling seraphs bend,
And we tremble and rejoice
At hosannas that ascend,
Winged with their unearthly voice.
Cloudy luminous faces hover,
And the wing-swept candles wane.
And our fiery breasts they cover
As with hidden holy rain.
Серафимов вереницы
Наше ложе окружили.
Веют в пламенные лица
Тихим холодом воскрылий.
Серафимы полукругом
Наклонились к изголовью;
Внемлем с радостным испугом
Неземному славословью.
Реют лики светлым дымом,
И крылами гасят свечи,
И кропят дождем незримым
Наши огненные плечи.
«Of madness years the faded joy and laughter / Weigh gravely like a hazy morning after. / And yet the sorrows of the finished page, / Like fancy wine, still stronger get with age. / My way lies dreary. Work and grief are written / In what’s to come, which like the sea is smitten. But, o...»
«The sultry sun heats to the seventh sweat. / The ravine rages in the frenzy, senseless. / As though a cowgirl working in the stead, — / The spring is busy, and its chores are endless. Out in the light, the snow-banks slowly slump, / Their bloodless, twig-like veins turn paler still. / ...»
«Oh my dear maple, frozen stiff and bare, / Why do you stand bending in the blizzard there? / / Have you seen a vision? Have you heard a babble? / Just like you are out for an idle ramble. / / Like a tipsy warden, walking on the roadside, / You have stuck in snowdrift, hit by burnin...»
«There’s still the twilight of the night. / The world’s so young in its proceeding, / That there are countless stars outside / And each one, like the day, is bright / And if the Earth could so decide, / She’d sleep through Easter in delight, / Hearing the Psalter reading. There’s...»