My friend, I'm really just sorry
about who, in secret blindness,
passing all length of the green alley,
just can not notice on leaves
the striking network of the streaks
and points of the tubercles
or even the serrated tracks
from saws of the blue-horned slugs.
Мой друг, я искренно жалею
того, кто, в тайной слепоте.
пройдя всю длинную аллею,
не мог приметить на листе
сеть изумительную жилок,
и точки жёлтых бугорков,
и след зазубренный от пилок
голуборогих червяков.
«All is sold, all betrayed, all is looted; / Death’s black wing has flashed past in its flight. / All is gnawed by a hungering sorrow, — / Why shines there for us such a light? By day the town breathes scent of cherries / From an orchard that none can espy; / By night glitter new const...»
«You are far off, stranger mine, / Yet to you I raise my cry; / In the clouds the candles shine. / Escort through the crimson sky. O my stranger, quickly stare / To the right with shining gaze; / For a crafty dragon here / Is my master many days. And the dragon in his den / Shows no r...»
«“Enough ! for beauty is not needed. / The sordid world’s not worth a song. / Grow dim, O Tasso’s lamp ! Unheeded / Lie, Homer, friend for centuries long! “And revolution is not needed; / Its armies dissipate and fade. / It has one crown for which it pleaded, / It has one liberty...»
«Wild wind batters / Window-panes, / And hinged shutters / Rudely strains. Hour of Mass on Easter mom, / Bells far distant, bells forlorn, / Deafness, darkness everywhere; / Only guest, a wind in scorn / Batters on the barrier. Through the window — void and black; / In the darknes...»