Friends, let's raise our glasses, and let's drink!
Night's so starry, and coolish blows the breeze.
1 don't say let's drink till we can't think...
I don't say in the warm embrace, if you please,
Held by caressing thoughts let's thaw awhile...
Let the night roll on, and late dawn creep,
So that those at the table do not sleep—
They must not get tired from my eloquent style,
While upon this earth, with friends around,
I've not had my fill of talk today...
Let's prolong this life, each moment found.
Let not time o'erhead like wind blow away.
In this lucid night, on this hillside here,
Where one speaks and sings with voice so clear,
By the spring this moment placed
Nowhere, simply nowhere do I haste!

Round my neck, beloved, let your arms be curled!.
Say not that you're tired, or have grown old
What enjoyment have I in life, all told?
Rise, and let's go hand in hand through the world!
If my wandering thoughts, like wind-filled sails.
Carry me over the seas, or hills and dales.
Fear them not! Say boldly: "Let sails be unfurled!"
Rise, and let's go hand in hand through the world.
If I swifter run than land-slide or stream,
Even in the sky like lightning gleam,
So that no joy nor woe your steed should chase,
Nowhere, simply nowhere will I haste!...

You, my hunter friend, you too don't haste.
Let us slowly from these high hills descend,
Through these green fields slowly having paced,
Let us slowly look around, my friend.
Should I not greet each flower, each little blade,
Not bringing welcome, no! welcome I'd be made.
Mint and cornflowers would be offended all.
And the flowers as one would lade and fall...
Were I a wind I'd blow not o'er the waste-
Nowhere, simply nowhere do I haste.

Let the clouds float slowly onward bound,
And the stream flow slowly on its ways,
So upon each drop I slow may gaze.
Let my heart not race at a sudden sound.
What can happen with hasty wishes round?
Do not think that age has made me slow.
That like a wounded bird lame-legged I so.
Let this world yet grow, let time extend,
So thia a day as one whole month should end.
While the warm sun pours radiance from this eye...
And to end the hook of life, say why
Should my pen across its pages race?
Nowhere will I haste,
Nowhere will I haste.



Библиотека им. Самеда Вургуна >> Произведения >> NOWHERE WILL I HASTE

return_links(); ?>