Пламя и тень / Flame and shadow

The letters of my name.
But it was my lovers,
And not my sleeping sires,
Who gave the flame its changeful
And iridescent fires;
As the driftwood burning
Learned its jeweled blaze
From the sea's blue splendor
Of colored nights and days.

Коряга

Дали предки однажды мне
Пламя трепетное – мой дух,
Буквы имени моего,
Форму рук моих, сердца стук.

Но не спящие праотцы
Огонёк расцветили мой,
А возлюбленные мои
Дали пламени свет живой.

Так коряга, воспламенясь,
Драгоценным блеснёт огнём.
Тень ночей и лазурь морей,
Солнце дня отразятся в нём.

I Have Loved Hours at Sea

I have loved hours at sea, gray cities,
The fragile secret of a flower,
Music, the making of a poem
That gave me heaven for an hour;
First stars above a snowy hill,
Voices of people kindly and wise,
And the great look of love, long hidden,
Found at last in meeting eyes.
I have loved much and been loved deeply —
Oh when my spirit's fire burns low,
Leave me the darkness and the stillness,
I shall be tired and glad to go.
Города люблю, моря пение…
Города люблю, моря пение,
Тайну крохотного цветка.
Звуки песни, стиха творение
Дарят небо и облака.

Холм заснеженный, звёзд бутоны,
Мудрость в ласковых голосах,
Взгляд, мной пойманный, затаённый,
Когда тайна любви – в глазах.

Я любила, была любимой,
Но огонь так легко задуть.
Мрак, застой, проходите мимо.
Я устала, но весел путь.

August Moonrise

The sun was gone, and the moon was coming
Over the blue Connecticut hills;
The west was rosy, the east was flushed,
And over my head the swallows rushed
This way and that, with changeful wills.
I heard them twitter and watched them dart
Now together and now apart
Like dark petals blown from a tree;
The maples stamped against the west
Were black and stately and full of rest,
And the hazy orange moon grew up
And slowly changed to yellow gold
While the hills were darkened, fold on fold
To a deeper blue than a flower could hold.
Down the hill I went, and then
I forgot the ways of men,
For night-scents, heady, and damp and cool
Wakened ecstasy in me
On the brink of a shining pool.
О Beauty, out of many a cup
You have made me drunk and wild
Ever since I was a child,
But when have I been sure as now
That no bitterness can bend
And no sorrow wholly bow
One who loves you to the end?
And though I must give my breath
And my laughter all to death,
And my eyes through which joy came,
And my heart, a wavering flame;
If all must leave me and go back
Along a blind and fearful track
So that you can make anew,
Fusing with intenser fire,
Something nearer your desire;
If my soul must go alone
Through a cold infinity,
Or even if it vanish, too,
Beauty, I have worshiped you.
Let this single hour atone
For the theft of all of me.