Вечер в Сконе
(Перевод В. Полетаева)высоко Парк. And as if the house
I go out, learn the way to a spacious
evening, stretched out the wind.
Along the clouds going and the reservoir,
and windmills, floating on the edge of heaven
among I have today
no more than a thing in his hand Lord,
perhaps the smallest.
Look -
all this really heaven alone?
in flood fleeting white mob and
Blessed pops blue,
and over, barely perceptible,
almost indiscernible
glow of sunset fire.
Wonderful system,
that holds and moves them,
who does not understand the routines in
strange shapes, wing folds,
and, finally, the gates in a given,
what birds know one could.
Abend in Skåne
Der Park ist hoch. Und as from a house
I step out of his twilight
in level and evening. In the wind,
same wind, feel the clouds, the bright
rivers and the mills wing, the slow
mahlend standing at the edge of heaven.
Now I am a thing in his hand,
the least of these heavens. - Review:
Is A Heaven:
Selig bright blue,
in the ever cleaner clouds, crowd
And underneath all the white in transitions,
and upward of that thin, large gray,
warmwallend like on a red background,
and falling all over this quiet solar radiation
.
in sich bewegt und von sich selbst gehalten,
Gestalten bildend, Riesenflügel, Falten
und Hochgebirge vor den ersten Sternen
und plötzlich, da: ein Tor in solche Fernen,
wie sie vielleicht mir Vögel kennen ...
