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There hasn’t been a transformation...

Нет, ничего не изменилось…

There hasn’t been a transformation
In nature’s poor and simple state,
But wonderful illumination
In boundless beauty’s stirred of late.

Our feeble human flesh will doubtless
When dawns the hour appear like this,
When out of the enormous darkness
With judgement calls the Lord of bliss.

So, know my friend so proud and tender,
With you and only you alone,
With red-haired snow-white form so slender
I came into my very own.

And, oh, you smiled my lovely darling,
And you then did not understand
How much you shone, what darkling, snarling,
grim shadow wrapped you with its band.

А вот еще:

Beatrice

Muses, enough, cease your sobbing, / Pour out your grief into singing, / Sing about Dante soul-stirring, / Or play the flute, play with feeling. / / Move on, annoying faun deities, / Music is dead in your screaming! / Haven’t you learned only lately / Beatrice exited Eden....

Yet All But Once

Yet all but once you’ll reminisce of me / And of my world mysterious and thrilling, / The quirky world of songs and fervency, / But among all, unique and undeceiving. / / It could have been yours also, but alas, / It was too much for you, or was too scanty, / I must have ...