It seems as though the voice of manWill never sound in this place,But only wind from age of stoneIs knocking on black gates.It seems to me that I aloneHave kept good health under this sky,Because of this, that first I soughtTo drink the deadly wine.Parting, Evening and slanting,Downward goes my way.Yesterday in love still,"Don't forget" you prayed.Now there's only shepherds'Cry, and glancing winds,And the worried cedarsStand by clear springs.

I will lead a man to dear one --I don't want the little joy --And I'll quietly lay to sleepThe glad, tired little boy.In a chilly room once moreI will pray to Mother of God,It is hard to be a hermit,To be happy is also hard.Only fiery sleep will come to me,I'll enter a temple on the hill,Five-domed, white, and stone-hewn,On the paths remembered well.

True love's memory, You are heavy!In your smoke I sing and burn,And the rest -- is only fireTo keep the chilled soul warm.To keep warm the sated body,They need my tears for thisDid I for this sing your song, God?Did I take part of love for this?Let me drink of such a poison,That I would be deaf and dumb,And my unglorious gloryWash away to the final crumb.

The first ray -- as the blessing of the Lord --Across the face of the beloved did creep,Who, sleeping, went a little pale,And then again more tightly went to sleep.It seemed that warmth of ray of sunAppeared to him just like a kiss.And long with these my lips I have not touchedThe tan strong shoulder or the dear lips.And now, the deceased spirits in my longDisconsolate wandering along the way,I am now flying toward him as a songAnd I caress him with a morning ray.

Whether to look for you on earth --I don't know if you're dead or you live --Or about you in the eveningI should for you, departed, grieve.All is for you: and the daily prayerAnd the sleeplessness' swooning flameAnd the white flock of my poemsAnd my eyes' blue violent flame.No one was dearer to me, no one,No one left me this bereft,Not even he who betrayed me to torment,Not even he who caressed, then left.

He was jealous, fearful and tender,He loved me like God's only light,And that she not sing of the past timesHe killed my bird colored white.He said, in the lighthouse at sundown:"Love me, laugh and write poetry!"And I buried the joyous songbirdBehind a round well near a tree.I promised that I would not mourn her.But my heart turned to stone without choice,And it seems to me that everywhereAnd always I'll hear her sweet voice.

I have ceased and desisted from smilingThe frosty wind chills lips - say so longTo one hope of which will be lesser,Instead there will be one more song.And this song, without my volition,I will give out for laughter and parable,For this that the silence of loveIs to me simply unbearable.

Yellow and fresh are the lanterns,Black is the road of the garden at sea.I am very calm. Only please, do notTalk about him with me.You're tender and loyal, we'll be friends..Have fun, kiss, together grow old..And light months above us will fly like feathers,Like stars made of snow and as cold.

আমি স্বপ্ন দেখিকালো আর স্হায়ী বিচ্ছেদতোমার সঙ্গে সমানভাবে ভাগাভাগি করে নিইকেনই বা কাঁদা ? আমাকে তোমার হাত ধরতে দাও,কথা দাও তুমি আবার আসবে ।তুমি আর আমি যেন উঁচুপর্বতমালা আর পরস্পরের কাছাকাছি যেতে পারি না ।কেবল বার্তা পাঠিওমাঝরাতে কোনো সময়ে নক্ষত্রদের দিয়ে ।