• Язык:
    Польский (Polska)

Dzieciństwo

Детство

Będąc dzieckiem lubiłem wielkiе
Miodem pachnące odłogi,
Zagajniki i chaszcze wszelkie
I pośród traw bycze rogi.

Zakurzone krzaki przydrożne
Krzyczały: „Zabaw się z nami,
Obchodząc nas bardzo ostrożnie
Dowiesz się, w co z tobą gramy!”

A gdy wiatr, z szarugą jesienną,
Wyszumiawszy się, kończył grę, —
Serce biło z myślą niezmienną,
Że zanurzę się w wiecznym śnie.

Nie samotny — lecz z kolegami
Z podbiałem i z łopianami,
Tam, w oddali, za niebiosami
O wszystkim się dogadamy.

Lubię pomysły najprzedniejsze
Barbarzyńskich, wojennych spraw,
Bo w nich ludzka krew nie jest świętsza
Niźli sok szmaragdowych traw.

А вот еще:

The Other One

I wait for, full of thoughts provoking, / But not a gay and pretty wife, / Not the sincere and gentle talking / About the old time and life. / / And not a mistress: I am bored / With languor whispers, languor looks, / And with delights, a lot and more, / And more tortures that I ...

The Prophets

There are the modern prophets here, / Though altars totally are felt, / Their eyes are very deep and clear - / In them, the flame of future set. / / For them, the calls of fame are alien, / They’re pressed by mass and depth of words, / All they are frightened, pale and sulle...

Reader Of Books

My dear friend, and I have tried to find / My paradise in serfdom of a soul, / I liked them all - the odd ways of a mind / Without hopes, or memories, or goals. / / Promptly to glide along the brooks of lines, / To enter into straits of chapters, slow, / To watch a foam on the flows&...

The Right Way

Birth of the word is by agony molded, / Through earthly life it is quietly going, / It is a stranger, which drinks from the golden / Pitcher the drops of the savages’ mourning. / / Go to Nature! The Nature is hostile, / All here is frightening, all is in fullness, / ...

Shame

May be, in my previous a-being, / I’ve cut the throats of my Mom and Dad, / If in this one - Lord of all the living! - / I have been doomed to suffering like that. / / If I call for dogs of mine, aloud, / Or just try my own horse to see, / Not obeying all my signs and shout...

She

I know her, her bitter silence, / Her tiredness of her words and cries, / Lives in the secret changing brightness / Of widened pupils of her eyes. / / Her heart is opened with craving / Only to music of the verse, / Before the life of joy and playing, / She stands aloof and won&rsq...