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1. * * * (Has my fate really been so altered)

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Часть текста: Has my fate really been so altered, Or is this game truly truly over? Where are winters, when I fell asleep In the morning in the sixth hour? In a new way, severely and calmly, I now live on the wild shore. I can no longer pronounce The tender or idle word. I can't believe that Christmas-tide is coming. Touchingly green is this the steppe before The beaming sun. Like a warm Wave, licks the tender shore. When from happiness languid and tired I was, then of such quiet With trembling inexpressible I dreamed And this in my imagining I deemed The after-mortal wandering of the soul.

2. * * * (My shadow has remained there and is angstful)

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Часть текста: My shadow has remained there and is angstful, In that blue room she still to this day lives, She waits for guests from city beyond midnight And to enamel image gives a kiss. And things are not quite well around the house: It still is dark, although they lit the flame.. Not from all this the hostess is in boredom, Not from all this the host drinks all the same And hears how on the other side of the thin wall The guest arrived talks to me at all?

3. * * * (The muse has left along narrow)

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Часть текста: The muse has left along narrow And winding street, And with large drops of dew Were sprinkled her feet. For long did I ask of her To wait for winter with me, But she said, "The grave is here, How can you breathe, you see?" I wanted to give her a dove That is whiter than all the rest But the bird herself flew above After my graceful guest. Looking at her I was silent, I loved her alone And like gates into her country In the sky stood the dawn.

4. * * * (All has been taken: strength as well as love)

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Часть текста: All has been taken: strength as well as love. Into the unloved town the corpse is thrown. It does not love the sun. I fear, that blood Inside of me already cold has grown. I do not recognize sweet Muse's loving taste: She looks ahead and does not let a word pass, And bows a head in the dark garland dressed Onto my chest, exhausted from the haste. And only conscience, scarier with each day, Wants a great ransom and for this abuses. Closing the face, I answer her this way.. But there remain no tears and no excuses.