On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consuméd,
Oh, thou, my soul.
On slow and smoky fire thou burn'st and art consuméd,
With hidden dole.
Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,
Harassed and spent,
Thou droopest like Sebastian, pierced with pointed arrows,
Thy flesh all rent.
Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter
And bended bow,
Thy foes encircle thee and watch with gleeful laughter
Thy torments slow.
The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow's stinging,
'Neath the evening sky,
The embers burn, and gentle is the arrow's stinging,
When the end draws nigh.
Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips, now pallid
With deadly drouth?
Why hastens not thy dream unto thy lips, now pallid
To kiss thy mouth?
На медленном огне горишь ты и сгораешь,
Душа моя!
На медленном огне горишь ты и сгораешь,
Свой стон тая.
Стоишь, как Себастьян, пронизанный стрела́ми,
Без сил вздохнуть.
Стоишь, как Себастьян, пронизанный стрела́ми
В плечо и грудь.
Твои враги кругом с веселым смехом смотрят,
Сгибая лук.
Твои враги кругом с веселым смехом смотрят
На смены мук.
Горит костер, горит, и стрелы жалят нежно
В вечерний час.
Горит костер, горит, и стрелы жалят нежно
В последний раз.
Что ж не спешит она к твоим устам предсмертным,
Твоя мечта?
Что ж не спешит она к твоим устам предсмертным
Прижать уста!
«I recall the nervous trepidation / Of your gentle shoulders as we spoke. / And the warm caress, mid-conversation, / Unexpected, following a joke. And your musical voice, reaching far, / And your hair’s dark red coloration, / And the lilac’s five-pointed star / In the hour of our sep...»
«You sought no friends! Alone, you lived your life, / Without those who shared your point of view. / Without remorse, you calmly thrust your knife / Into each heart that shared its love with you. “My senseless friend, seek happiness and mirth!...” / ...»
«They will bury us deep, once we’re dead, / And the grass will then cover the mound, / And we’ll hear: somewhere high, overhead, / A passing shower will water the ground. From then on, we’ll seek nothing at all, / Waking up from a dream, we will reason: / If it’s quiet outside – ...»
«I recall, we would date at sundown, / You would cut the lagoon with the ore. / I admired your white dressing gown / Not revering fine dreams any more. / / Our dates would be awkwardly silent. / Up ahead on the sandy shore / Evening candles would light up, and someone / Thought of...»