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Der Dichter


Wie eine Frau sang, erlauscht' ich vom Garten,
Doch ich, ich schaute in den Mond.

Und an die Sängerin dachte ich nie,
In den Mond in den Wolken verliebt.

Bin nicht ganz fremd seiner göttlichen Schönheit:
Ich spür, sein Blick fällt auch auf mich.

Nicht Fledermäuse, nicht Äste von Bäumen
Verbergen mich vor ihm.

In die Augen der Dichter, die Frauen vergaßen,
Ist's tröstlich zu schauen dem Mond,

Wie in das Erstrahlen der Drachenschuppen,
Die Meere der heiligen Dichter sind.

[nach Tan-Io-Sy]

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Майя Журавель
  • Осетинский
    Инал Плиев
  • Сербский
    Миломир Булатович

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