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     That had died in the west
     Still lived for one song more
     In a thrush's breast.
     Far in the pillared dark
     Thrush musik went --
     Almost like a call to come in
     To the dark and lament.
     But no, I was out for stars:
     I would not come in.
     I meant not even if asked,
     And I hadn't been.

          Войди!

     Подошел я к лесу, там дрозд
     Пел -- да как!
     Если в поле был еще сумрак,
     В лесу был мрак.
     Мрак такой, что пичуге
     В нем не суметь
     Половчей усесться на ветке,
     Хоть может петь.
     Последний закатный луч
     Погас, когда
     Песнь зажег надолго
     В груди дрозда.
     Я слушал. В колонном мраке
     Дрозд не иссяк,
     Он словно просит войти
     В скорбь и мрак.
     Я вышел вечером к звездам,
     В лесной провал.
     Не войду, даже если бы звали, --
     А никто не звал.

          Перевод А. Сергеева

          Home Burial

     He saw her from the bottom of the stairs
     Before she saw him. She was starting down,
     Looking back over her shoulder at some fear.
     She took a doubtful step and then undid it
     To raise herself and look again. He spoke
     Advancing toward her: "What is it you see?
     From up there always? -- for I want to know."
     She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,
     And her face turned from terrified to dull.
     He said to gain time: "What is it you see?"
     Mounting until she cowered under him.
     "I will find out now -- you must tell me, dear".
     She, in her place, refused him any help,
     With the least stiffening of her neck and silence.
     She let him look, sure that he wouldn't see,
     Blind creature; and awhile he didn't see.
     But at last he murmured, "Oh", and again, "Oh".
     "What is it -- what?" she said.
     "Just that I see".

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