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.
«By gates of an abode, blessed, / A man stood, asking for donation, / A beggar, cruelly oppressed / By hunger, thirst and deprivation. He asked just for a peace of bread, / And all his looks were full of anguish, / And was a cold stone laid / Into his stretched arm, thin and languished. ...»
«My lonely heart athirst, I trod / A barren waste when, so 'twas fated, / A winged seraph 'fore me stood: / Where crossed the desert roads he waited. / Upon my orbs of sightless clay / His fingers lightly he did lay. / And like a startled eagle round me / I gazed and saw the earth surro...»
«I’ve ceased to smile long ago, / The bitter winds now chill my lips, / Another hope was just let go, / Another song was added since. / Against my will, I’ll cede this song / To people’s laughter and offense, / Because love’s silence for the soul / Is too unbearably immense.»
«And the stone word has fallen down / On my breast, being alive, awhile... / No matter, I was ready, almost... / I'll cope, overcome this time. I'm today completly borrowed, rather, / It is need to kill the memory to end. / It is need for my soul — to harden, / It is need — again to...»