(Jean-paul Charles: il mio mondo interiore se ne va- my whole inner world is taking leave)
Песня последней встречи
Но шаги мои были легки.
Я на правую руку надела
Перчатку с левой руки.
Показалось, что много ступеней,
А я знала - их только три!
Между кленов шепот осенний
Попросил: "Со мною умри!
Я обманут моей унылой
Переменчивой, злой судьбой".
Я ответила: "Милый, милый -
И я тоже. Умру с тобой!"
Это песня последней встречи.
Я взглянула на темный дом.
Только в спальне горели свечи
Равнодушно-желтым огнем.
1911
Song of the final meeting
How helplessly chilled was my chest, yet
My footsteps were nimble and light.
The glove that belonged on my left hand
I unconsciously put on my right.
It seemed that the stairs were endless,
But I knew -- there were only three!
Autumn, whispering through the maples,
Pleaded: “Die here with me!
I was blindly deceived by my dreary,
Dismal, changeable Fate.” “And I too,”
I responded, “My darling, my dear one,
And I’ll also die here with you.”
This is the song of the final meeting.
I looked up at your house, - all dark inside.
Just the bedroom candles burned with a fleeting,
Indifferent and yellowish light.
1911
How helplessly chilled was my chest, yet
My footsteps were nimble and light.
The glove that belonged on my left hand
I unconsciously put on my right.
It seemed that the stairs were endless,
But I knew -- there were only three!
Autumn, whispering through the maples,
Pleaded: “Die here with me!
I was blindly deceived by my dreary,
Dismal, changeable Fate.” “And I too,”
I responded, “My darling, my dear one,
And I’ll also die here with you.”
This is the song of the final meeting.
I looked up at your house, - all dark inside.
Just the bedroom candles burned with a fleeting,
Indifferent and yellowish light.
1911
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