Sweet and Low

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
     Wind of the western sea.
Low, low, breathe and blow,
     Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
     Blow him again to me;
While my little on, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
     Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
     Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
     Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little on, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)

Never once

India is filled
with many
exceptionally beautiful women
who don't desire me
I verify this
every single day
as I walk around
the city of Bombay
I look into face after face
and never once
have I been wrong

Leonard Cohen (1934-2016)

(Mu elu on olnud)

Mu elu on olnud
seda ja teist

vahel tige pull
vahel lill

vahel on ta norinud
tüli taevaga minus

aga õhtul tuleb ikka
maailma vari

ja toob magusat und

Indrek Hirv (1956)

(igal pool)

Igal pool
saab õnnelik olla
kõik võib
olla kingitus
ühtviisi
suured
kohutavad
kiiskavvalgete
mägedena
teisel pool
kannatus
rõõm 

Jaan Kaplinski (1941)

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph (1932-2018)

Песня последней встречи

Так беспомощно грудь холодела,

Но шаги мои были легки.

Я на правую руку надела

Перчатку с левой руки.

Показалось, что много ступеней,

А я знала - их только три!

Между кленов шепот осенний

Попросил: "Со мною умри!

Я обманут моей унылой

Переменчивой, злой судьбой".

Я ответила: "Милый, милый -

И я тоже. Умру с тобой!"

Это песня последней встречи.

Я взглянула на темный дом.

Только в спальне горели свечи

Равнодушно-желтым огнем.


LAUL VIIMASEST KOHTUMISEST

Ah, kui armetult külmetas rind, aga
sammud jäid kergeteks.
Taskust tõmbasin pahema kinda ja
paremasse see läks.

Trepiastmeid näis vähemalt tosin,
kuid ma teadsin - neid on vaid kolm!
"Sure minuga!" sügisesosin
vahtrais vannutas. "Heitlik, julm,

reetlik, muutlik on sattunud mulle
saatus - neetud ta viimne kui loos!"
Ma vastasin: "Kallis, ka mulle,
ka mulle! Jah, sureme koos!"

Viimne kohtumine see oli.
Majas aknad pimedad kõik.
Üksi magamistoas põles tuli -
tuhmkollane ükskõikne laik.

Anna Ahmatova (1889-1966) Doris Kareva (1958) tõlkes

(vanamees tahtis)

oi ga koi
wasuren tu sureba
shigure kana


***
vanamees tahtis
armastust unustada
aga hoovihmad

Yosa Buson (1716-1783) Rein Raua (1961) tõlkes

(silm sinine peas)

silm sinine peas
kuni must asfalt väljas
roogin valget lund

Madis-Ulf Regi (1954)