For several weeks now four lines from the Russian poem come into my mind without any particular reason again and again. Not the whole poem, though it is lovely as most everything written by Nikolai Gumilev (1886-1921), but just four lines. So, to let that stanza travel to some other destination I felt compelled to do a very liberal translation along with an illustration...
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... И вот мне приснилось, что сердце моё не болитб Оно - колокольчик фарфоровый в желтом Китае На пагоде пестрой... висит и приветно звенит, В эмалевом небе дразня журавлинные стаи. |
…I dreamt that my heart is a
porcelain bell, It hangs, light and free, on a
pagoda in faraway China. The whisper of wind makes it
sing, And that song pulls attention
of cranes, Passing by in the enameled
heavens… |
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