Wieczór

Kolejny niepotrzebny dzień,
Wspaniały, jednak nadmiarowy!
Przychodźże, pieszczotliwy cień
I duszy niewyraźnej zmień
Ubiór, na ornat swój perłowy.

I ty przyszedłeś... Gonisz stąd
Złowieszcze ptaki - smutki moje.
O, nocy, twardo trzymasz rząd,
Wbrew tobie trudno iść pod prąd,
Bo władczo brzmią sandały twoje!

Na ziemię cisza spada z gwiazd,
Lśni księżyc - jak klejnoty twoje,
Znów widzę we śnie inny świat,
To Ziemi Obiecanej szmat —
Łzami zroszone szczęście moje.

Другие переводы:

Венгерский
Иштван Бака
Az este
Словацкий
Ян Квапил
Večer

А вот еще:

Cain’s Descendants

He didn’t deceive us, that sad, somber spirit / Who wears the morning star as pseudonym / And said: "Shun not the highest gain, nor fear it: / Taste of the fruit and you will equal Him." / / Instantly, for the youth, all roads lay open, / And for old men, all mysteries to know, / ...

The Worker

He’s standing there, beside the glowing furnace, / A small man, probably older than you’d think. / His gaze is peaceful, seems almost submissive / From the way his reddened eyelids blink. / / All his workmates have knocked off - they’re sleeping / But he’s still ...

The Lost Tram

I was walking an obscure route / And abruptly I heard caws of crows, / A distant thunder and a tinkling lute: / A rushing tram was really close. / / How I leapt to its step / Is still a mystery to me. / It left a fiery track beyond itself / Which even in the daylight I could see. ...

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