*This is another one of my translations of A. Pushkin.
I can't sleep; the light is out;
Chasing senseless dreams in gloom.
Clocks at once, inside my room,
Somewhere next to me, resound.
Parcae’s soft and mild chatter,
Sleeping twilight’s noisy flutter,
Life’s commotion -- so insane..
Why am I to feel this pain?
What’s your meaning, boring mumble?
Disapproving, do you grumble
Of the day I spent in vain?
What has made you so compelling?
Are you calling or foretelling?
I just want to understand,
Thus I’m seeking your intent...
[This message has been edited by Master (edited 05-22-2000).]