Friday, 23/02/2024 - 13:42
07:41 | 01/09/2019
Oh, laziness, come, come to me, alone. 
You’re called for by soft coolness and good rest;
Only in you I see my goddess own;
All is here ready for the youthful guest,
All’s quiet here – the boring noise fell down
Behind my porch; upon a window, bright,
Downed a curtain, transparent and light;
And in a niche, where now a dusk is crowned,
Is weakly creeping bashful light of a day.
There’s my divan. Come to the word’s abode;
And be a queen. I’m here to obey.
All here is yours: paints, brushes, a lyre gold –
Just teach me right, move my hand in your way.
                                   1816


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, April 10, 2005


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