Yes, yes! In blind and tender passion
wear out the pain, burn out the fire;
rip your heart up, like a letter,
lose your mind, and then expire.
And then? Once more to roll away
the gravestone that lies over you;
to love once more, and flash your feet
upon a stage of moonlit blue.
Да, да! В слепой и нежной страсти
Переболей, перегори,
Рви сердце, как письмо, на части,
Сойди с ума, потом умри.
И что ж? Могильный камень двигать
Опять придется над собой,
Опять любить и ножкой дрыгать
На сцене лунно-голубой.
«I always s like the northern birches: / Their view, so downcast and grave, / The fever, which poor souls scorches, / Cools like the mute speech of a grave. But yet, the willow, which branches, / With their long leaves, cast in a flood, / Is closer to a dream, that scourges, / And longe...»
«I have come to you, delighted, / To tell you that sun has risen, / That its light has warmly started / To fulfil on leaves its dancing; To tell you that wood’s awaken / In its every branch and leafage, / And with every bird is shaken, / Thirsty of the springy image; To tell you that...»
«On a hay rick in lands of South, / I lay, while facing skies of night, / The choir of stars, alive and couth, / Was trembling, spread at every side. The earth, mute as a dream half-hidden, / Was fast receding into space, / And I, as if the first in Eden, / Alone met the black night...»
«To sighs of morning air, that froze, — / (With her lips opened for a say), / How curiously has smiled the rose / On a September fleeting day! And how has she ever dared / To greet, with air of springy queens, / The single blue-tit, in the bare / Shrubs fleshing in the orb of wings; ...»