When horses die, they sigh
When grasses die, they shrivel
When suns die, they flare and expire
When people die, they sing songs
Когда умирают кони — дышат,
Когда умирают травы — сохнут,
Когда умирают солнца — они гаснут,
Когда умирают люди — поют песни.
«In the waves’ mist are both splashes of / Silver and washed-out enameled colors... / I so love the autumn mornings for the / Tender irrevocableness of their caress! And I love the foam on the shore / When it restlessly shows white... / Here, while the sky is hot, I greedily / Preserve...»
«Whirlwinds of turbid bad weather / Keep a white secret... / Bells of a bracelet will now / all silent, now ring... Dread of stolen happiness — / The honey and poison of cold lips / I thirstily drink, all filled / With the fever of voluptuousness. This dream, gray darkness, you / A...»
«Tell me, what has happened to me? Why / Has my heart begun to beat so ardently? / What wave of madness has forced its / Way through the stone of habit? In my agitation I do not feel at once / Whether my strength or my torment is / In it: I catch a forgotten phrase from / The shimmering ...»
«This cannot be, / This is a forgery... / The day was so drawn out and lived to its end, / Or not lived through but exhausted?.. / This cannot be... / From that very time there has been / Some kind of lump in my throat... / Nonsense... ...»