Through the consoling April sun
the breeze, so very unconsoling,
a sandy whirlwind on the road —
shutting up the chattering starling.
Up above the northern latitudes,
dark grey clouds are bulking high.
Bowler hats get pulled down tight —
but these two dandies let theirs fly.
And under the noise of the rumbling hail,
the proud and wicked heart revives:
«That's our very own lightning-crack,
the wingbeat as our spring arrives!»
Сквозь уютное солнце апреля —
Неуютный такой холодок.
И — смерчом по дорожке песок,
И — смолкает скворец-пустомеля.
Там над северным краем земли
Черно-серая вздутая туча.
Котелки поплотней нахлобуча,
Попроворней два франта пошли.
И под шум градобойного гула —
В сердце гордом, веселом и злом:
«Это молнии нашей излом,
Это наша весна допорхнула!»
«Dedicated to I. D. Rudinsky Sun’s golden arc / Hot like a red coal, / Sent down its spark / And it warmed my soul; Although, I am not sure / Now, I hope that I could / Expect from my future / To bring something good; The warmth brought me back / To life, the light illuminated me /...»
«Blossom wite bird cherries scatter / On the on the dewy grass like snow. / Hungry rooks in ploughland gather, / Picked warms up as they go. / Low the silk smooth grath is bending, / Pitch scents to the pine-trees cling. / Groves in leaf, and luscios meadows — / How the senses reel i...»
«Still around, old dear? How are you keeping? / I too am around. Hello to you! / May that magic twilight ever be streaming / Over your cottage as it used to do. People write how sad you are, and anxious / For my sake, though you won't tell them so, / And that you in your old-fashioned jack...»
«Die Gleichmasigkeit des Laufes / der Zeit in allen Kopfen beweist mehr, / als irgend etwas, das wir Alle in den- / selben Traum versenkt sind, ja das es / Ein Wesen ist, welches ihn traumt. / Schopenhauer By life tormented, and by cunning hope, / When my soul surrenders in its battle wi...»