Kissing and Horrid Strife - Поцелуи и борьба

I have been defeated and dragged down by pain

and worsted by the evil world-soul of today.

Сегодня мне стало плохо –

меня сломила и потащила боль.

But still I know that life is for delight and for bliss

as now when the tiny wavelets of the sea

tip the morning light on edge, and spill it

with delight to show how inexhaustible it is:

И всё же, жизнь - для восторга и счастья;

маленькие волны разливают утренний свет,

белое солнце целует море,

играет с волнами как пантера с щенками,

And life is for delight, and bliss like now

when the white sun kisses the sea

and plays with the wavelets like a panther playing

with its cubs cuffing them with soft paws, and blows

that are caresses, kisses of the soft-balled paws,

where the talons are.

треплет их лапами,

целует мягкими подушечками, прячет когти.

И всё же, жизнь - для несчастий и ужаса;

смерть накатывает тьмой, разлука разделяет,

раздевает, разрушает; осень разносит наперстянку,

коровяк, просвирник,

And life is for dread, for doom that darkens,

and the Sunderers that sunder us from each other,

that strip us and destroy us and break us down

as the tall foxgloves and the mulleins and mallows

are torn down by dismembering autumn

till not a vestige is left, and black winter has

no trace of any such flowers; and yet the roots

below the blackness are intact:the Thunderers and

the Sunderers have their term, their limit,

their thus far and no further.

черная зима покрывает засохшие стебли;

и, всё же, корни под снегом живы -

у разлук и несчастий свой предел.

Жизнь - для поцелуев и жестокой борьбы,

ангелы сменяются демонами,

сладость - горечью; но нет места тщеславию,

превосходству,

самомнению, наивному упрямству.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife.

Life is for the angels and the Sunderers.

Life is for the daimons and the demons,

those that put honey on our lips, and those that put salt.

But life is not for the dead vanity of knowing better, nor the blank

cold comfort of superiority, nor silly

conceit of being immune, nor puerility

of contradictions like saying snow is black,

or desire is evil.

Life is for kissing and for horrid strife,

the angels and the Sunderers.

And perhaps in unknown Death we perhaps shall know

Oneness and poised immunity.

But why then should we die while we can live ?

And while we live the kissing and communing cannot cease

nor yet the striving and the horrid strife.

Жизнь - для поцелуев и жестокой борьбы;

возможно, в непознанной смерти,

мы, наконец, узнаем о единстве и

равновесии ?

Но пока мы живы - поцелуи не прекратятся,

не прекратятся боль и борьба