r_m_rilke @ 2004-10-11T15:03:00 Song widow
(Translation E. Witkowski) Initially, life was good,
in the warmth of well-established soul grew stronger.
Early Years have passed, slowly, -
I did not know that well with everybody.
And suddenly reached for the year year,
not new and is joyous was their turn,
one after another come and go, -
broke in half the time.
Guilt was not his fault not mine,
patience to type and he and I,
but death would not tolerate.
I saw death, hobble us,
all without asking it to seize,
to me something to her - what a deal.
What I have done, for myself, my?
Is this miserable habitation
fate given bail?
Not only happiness life gives,
and sorrow and pain go into circulation -
starevschitsyn trash poor.
Destiny bought me for nothing,
lips and eyelashes any tremors,
even gait, and this was
sale every day.
Fate купила все - а потом
счет не оплатила.
The Song of the widow
At the beginning, life was good.
It kept me warm, it gave me courage.
That it does so all the boys,
how could I know then.
I did not know what was life -
was a sudden it just year and year, not more
well will now no longer
wonderful
as heart torn in two.
That was not his own, not my fault, we keep both
nothing but patience, but
Death has no.
I saw him coming (how bad it was),
and I watched him as he took and took:
it was not even mine.
What was the My, My, My?
War lent me not even my Elendsein
only by fate?
Fate does not want only happiness,
it wants the pain and the Sehrein
back and buys it for the old ruin.
Fate was there and bought for nothing
any expression of my face
up on the way to go.
That was a sellout
daily and when I was empty, there was me and had me stand on
open.
