Καλό ταξίδι, αλαργινό καράβι μου, στου απείρου
και στης νυχτός την αγκαλιά, με τα χρυσά σου φώτα!
Να 'μουν στην πλώρη σου ήθελα, για να κοιτάζω γύρου
σε λιτανεία να περνούν τα ονείρατα τα πρώτα.
Η τρικυμία στο πέλαγος και στη ζωή να παύει,
μακριά μαζί σου φεύγοντας πέτρα να ρίχνω πίσω,
να μου λικνίζεις την αιώνια θλίψη μου, καράβι,
δίχως να ξέρω πού με πας και δίχως να γυρίσω!
«Οἱ νέοι ποὺ φτάσανε μαζὶ στὸ ἔρμο νησί» μὲ σένα
κάποια βραδιὰ μετρήθηκαν κ᾿ ηὖραν ἐσὺ νὰ λείπης.
Τὰ μάτια τους κοιτάχτηκαν τότε, χωρὶς κανένα
ρώτημα, μόνο ἐκίνησαν τὶς κεφαλὲς τῆς λύπης.
Νύχτες πολλές, θυμήθηκαν, ἀπὸ τὴ μόνωσή σου
ἕνα σημεῖο ἀπὸ φωτιὰ τοὺς ἔστελνες, γνωρίζαν
τὸ θλιβερὸ χαιρέτισμα ποὺ φώταε τῆς ἀβύσσου
τοὺς δρόμους κι᾿ ὅλοι ἀπόμεναν στὸν τόπο τους ποὺ ὁρίζαν.
Ἀπόμεναν στὴν ἴδια τους πικρία, κρεμασμένοι
ἔτσι μοιραῖα καὶ θλιβερὰ στὸ «βράχο» τοῦ κινδύνου.
Κι᾿ ὅταν πιὰ τοὺς χαιρέτισες, οἱ αἰώνια ἀπελπισμένοι
ψάλαν μαζὶ κάποια στροφὴ καθιερωμένου θρήνου.
Μὰ φτάνουν πάντα στὸ «νησί» τὰ νέα παιδιὰ ὁλοένα.
Στὴν ἄδεια θέση σου ζητοῦν τῆς ζωῆς τὸ ἐλεγεῖο.
Σοῦ φέρνουνε στὰ μάτια τους δυὸ δάκρυα παρθένα
καὶ τῆς καινούριας σου Ἐποχῆς τὸ πλαστικὸ ἐκμαγεῖο.
My soul is sick at the end of all,
Sick and sad, being weary too,
Weary of being so vain, so vain,
Weary and sad at the end of all,
And o i long for the touch of you!
I long for your hands upon my face;
Snow-cold as spirits they will be;
I wait until they bring the ring.
I wait for their coolness over my face
Like a treasure deep in the sea.
I wait to know their healing spell,
Lest in the desolate sun I die,
So that I die not out in the sun;
O bathe mine eyes and make them well,
Where things unhappy slumbering lie.
Where many swans upon the sea,
Swans that wander over the sea,
Stretch forth their mournful throats in vain;
In wintry gardens by the sea
Sick men pluck roses in their pain.
I long for your hands upon my face;
Snow-cold as spirits they will be,
And soothe my aching sight, alas!
My vision like the withered grass
Where listless lambs irresolute pass!
There is an air for which I would disown
Mozart's, Rossini's, Weber's melodies, -
A sweet sad air that languishes and sighs,
And keeps its secret charm for me alone.
Whene'er I hear that music vague and old,
Two hundred years are mist that rolls away;
The thirteenth Louis reigns, and I behold
A green land golden in the dying day.
An old red castle, strong with stony towers,
The windows gay with many coloured glass;
Wide plains, and rivers flowing among flowers,
That bathe the castle basement as they pass.
In antique weed, with dark eyes and gold hair,
A lady looks forth from her window high;
It may be that I knew and found her fair,
In some forgotten life, long time gone by.
Time is like a dream
And now, for a time, you are mine
Let's hold fast to the dream
That tastes and sparkles like wine
Who knows if it's real
Or just something we're both dreaming of
What seems like an interlude now
Could be the beginning of love
Loving you
Is a world that's strange
So much more than my heart can hold
Loving you
Makes the whole world change
Loving you, I could not grow old
No, nobody knows
When love will end
So till then, sweet friend ...
