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    Латышский (Latviešu)
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Kad lidoja iz dzīves dzīles...

Когда из темной бездны жизни...

Kad lidoja iz dzīves dzīles
Mans lepnais, apskaidrotais gars,
Man veltītajās bēru dzīrēs
Sērst sāka motīvs bēdīgais.

Šai melodijā, slīgstot pāri
Pār marmorzārku, kurā es,
Vēl skūpstīja man lūpas, pieri,
Par mani skuma sievietes.

Un es no gaišās ēterbrīves,
Vēl atceroties bijušo,
Lai mīlestība mūžam dzīva,
Nu atgriezos uz zemi šo.

Un kļuvu es par ziediem, lapām,
Un dziedāju kā mirdzošs strauts,
Lai aromātiskajām lūpām
Man skūpstīt mīļos vēlreiz ļauts.

Другие переводы:


А вот еще:

A portrait of a man

His eyes are lightless underground lakes, / Abandoned castles of the ancient kings. / Marked with the sign of the eternal shame / Of that, the Other One, he never speaks. / The deepest wound, his mouth, dark and purple, / Made with a blade borne of the deadly poison; / And it is sad and ...

I`m dreaming that both of us dead…

I'm dreaming that both of us dead. / We're lying - so peaceful for ever. / Two white heavy coffins of lead / Put down together. / / And when did we say that "enough"? / What for then and what means the trying? / But strange that's not aching my heart, / My heart is not crying. / ...

Unperturbed and indifferent sun contemplated the planet…

Unperturbed and indifferent sun contemplated the planet / There all was infested with terror and eaten by rot, / There rocks in the distance appeared a huge shaggy dog, / There black boiling copper spewed out collapsing volcanoes. / Was the night of the world. / / Unexpectedly rolled i...

Their souls` love had been born beside the sea…

Their souls' love had been born beside the sea, / In sacred groves of virginal naiads, / Whose songs, arguing with the play of wind, / With strings, ring joyfully, eternally. / / Great oracle... the majesty of man / Has never been more strange and more severe, / The closed lips and th...

The Magic Violin

Pretty boy, / you are so merry / and your smile's - so light, so sunny. / Don't you ask me for this passion / that is poison to the worlds. / You don't know, don't know how dreadful / is this Magic Violin, sonny, / And how gloomy is the horror / of the one who strikes the ...

Comfort

He that has been burried / Hears a glorious chime, / Smells the whitest lilies / In his dream beyond time. / / He that in his grave lies / Sees an endless light / As the wings of Seraphs / Shed their snow-flakes bright. / / You are on your death-bed / And your hands are cold....