Everyone has his special magic words,
And on the surface they mean nothing,
But when they are recalled, they flash and slip right by
And yet our heart begins to laugh and cry.
I don't like to repeat them, for I guard
Them from myself, forgetting them on purpose.
But I will meet them on the other shore,
For they are written on the gates of Heaven.
У каждого свои волшебные слова.
Они как будто ничего не значат,
Но вспомнятся, скользнут, мелькнут едва,
И сердце засмеется и заплачет.
Я повторять их не люблю; я берегу
Их от себя, нарочно забывая.
Они мне встретятся на новом берегу:
Они написаны на двери Рая.
«I still recall the wondrous moment: / When you appeared before my sight / As though a brief and fleeting omen, / Pure phantom in enchanting light. In sorrow, when I felt unwell, / Caught in the bustle, in a daze, / I fell under your voice’s spell / And dreamt the features of your face...»
«O blazing Muse of pure satire! / Come forth on my inviting call! / I do not need the thundering lyre, / Give me the scourge of Juvenal! / And neither lifeless imitators / Nor hungry, gluttonous translators, / Nor rhymesters, unsatisfied, / Shall fester from my pen tonight. / Peace to...»
«I love you, — though I rage anew / And struggle in vain, distressed, / And at your feet, I now confess / This foolishness to you! / This ill befits my age, and I… / Should know: enough’s enough! / But all the symptoms here imply / That I am plagued with love: / Without you near...»
«I have endured my desire, / I've ceased to love my fairy dreams, / And only fruit of hearty fire — / My sufferings have stayed, it seems. And under storms of cruel kismet / My blooming spirit quickly died, / I waited for the end, I missed it. / I'm feeling loneliness inside. So that ...»