MY NOVEMBER GUEST

My Sorrow, when she's here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane. 
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She's glad the birds are gone away,
She's glad her simple worsted grey
Is silver now with clinging mist. 
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why. 
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

Nie został nikt

 
 Gdzie już słyszałem tak zmieniony
Wiatr, jego nagle głębsze tony?
I co wiatr pojmie z mego stania
W tych narowistych drzwiach, z trzymania
Klamki, z patrzenia na spieniony
Brzeg? Koniec lata; koniec dnia.
Chmurom ściemniały sine dna.
Wir liści wzbił się z jednej strony
Spróchniałych schodków; chce mnie chyba
Pacnąć w kolano, ale chybia
I tylko syczy: już nikomu
Nie tajna twoja tajemnica;
Wieść o tym, że sam jesteś w domu,
Wiatry obniosły już po drogach;
Że jesteś sam we wnętrzu życia,
Że ci nie został nikt prócz Boga.
Przełożył
Stanisław Barańczak

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Ogień i lód

ROBERT FROST (1874-1963)

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those, who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.


Ogień i Lód

Mówią, że świat zabije ogień,
Albo, że lód.
Poznawszy żądzę stanąć mogę
Po stronie tych, co wolą ogień.
Lecz gdyby miał on zginąć znów,
Myślę, że wiem o nienawiści
Dosyć, by stwierdzić, że i lód
Też by go zniszczył,
Też by go zgniótł.

przełożył Maciej Froński

ON LOOKING UP BY CHANCE AT THE CONSTELLATIONS

You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drought will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.