Bản tiếng Anh

The dry river-bed finds no thanks for its past.

The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth.

I sit at my window this morning where the world like a passer-by stops for a moment, nods to me and goes.

He said to me it is a lie
That after death there is life.
But later on I had a dream
That the Devil laughed at him.

Tsunami

The proverb sounds ornately wise:
Don’t be excited by last year sky,
Do not return to former paradise,
Stop fool around - rush, new places try!

There is the place the nature tries us dummy!
There is the place a rumor cannot reach.
And there everyone ignores tsunami -
The storms are in the soul and head of each!

The quietness although missing there,
You will return - your friends believe in chance,
To act against the proverb you will dare -
And you’ll be back where you have met them once!

Here is the place the nature tries us dummy!
Here is the place a rumor cannot reach
And here’s where sometimes born tsunami
Which ruin all in soul and head of each!

The sea is calm but peace is only local
And the locator scans for dangers coming
With the alarm on-duty round clock
In case “Attention: There Is Tsunami!”

I raise a toast for the friends around me!
Tsunami is an apathetic wave.
There are disasters much more awful than tsunami
And there are joys of rather greater scale.

I can nor fall into a reverie nor drink:
A verse has come and my conception is high.
Don’t disturb me, let me become absorbed in,
Let me fall to thinking for a while!

Oh, how difficult is our time.
Who is that passer-by? Be ye all eyes.
Perhaps he is a good guy,
And perhaps he is a spy.

If there’s only a gentle melancholy in your soul,
It is a light paper-mashe load.

It seems
That they’re right,
Who so distrustfully grin:
The weddings
Won’t correct the line -
Something has gone out, and the sewing is coming apart at the seams.

I can pass women nor silently nor easy,
And here is a tale about the Old Vixen -
About her broom, about her tricks,
What didn’t occur and what did.

How she ensnares passers in deep water,
Especially young females,
How she secretly drives in a mortar
And adroitly fouls the trails...

Thank Thee, O Lord, for Thy grace,
That with time we forget any woe.
But what troubles me doesn’t melt
As if it’s the eternal snow.

It doesn’t melt even in summer
In the mid-day heat,
And I do know that this trouble
Forever will be with me.