Ralph Waldo Emerson

THE sun goes down, and with him takes
The coarseness of my por attire;
The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame
Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher.Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race;…

Think me not unkind and rude That I walk alone in grove and glen;
I go to the god of the wood To fetch his word to men.
Tax not my sloth that I Fold my arms beside the brook;
Each cloud that floated in the sky Writes a letter in my…

Burly dozing humblebee!
Where thou art is clime for me.
Let them sail for Porto Rique,
Far-off heats through seas to seek

I
EN the pine tosses its
To the song of its waterfall tones,
Who speeds to the woodland walks?

The sense of the world is short, -Long and various the report, -To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it;
And, how oft soe'er they've turned it,'Tis not to be improved.

Venus, when her son was lost,
Cried him up and down the coast,
In hamlets, palaces, and parks,
And told the truant by his marks,

Virtue runs before the
And defies her skill,
She is rapt, and doth
To wait a painter's will.

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee, from the hill-top looking down;
And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;

Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,

Thy summer voice,
Musketaquit,
Repeats the music of the rain;
But sweeter rivers pulsing flit Through thee, as thou through the Concord Plain.

Предвозвещенный трубным ревом неба,
Приходит снег и, словно не снижаясь,
Летает над землей, и белый воздух
Скрывает даль, реку, леса, холмы,…

They brought me rubies from the mine,
And held them to the sun;
I said, they are drops of frozen wine From Eden's vats that run.
I looked again,—I thought them hearts Of friends to friends unknown;

Give me truths,
For I am weary of the surfaces,
And die of inanition.
If I

Ты птиц назвать всех можешь, не охотясь?
Ты любишь розы, но не рвешь с куста?
Ешь за столом богатых хлеб с бобами?
Готов опасность встретить без оружья?…

How much, preventing God! how much I
To the defenses thou hast round me set:
Example, custom, fear, occasional slow,
These scorned bondmen were my parapet.

The debt is paid,
The verdict said,
The Furies laid,
The plague is stayed,

Parks and ponds are good by day;
I do not delight
In black acres of the night,
Nor my unseasoned step disturbs…

Thanks to the morning light,
Thanks to the seething sea,
To the uplands of New Hampshire,
To the green-haired forest free;

Who gave thee,
O Beauty!
The keys of this breast,
Too credulous

I like the church;
I like a cowl;
I love a prophet of the soul;
And on my heart monastic aisles Fall like sweet strains, or pensive smiles;

The south-wind
Life, sunshine, and desire,
And on every mount and
Breathes aromatic fire,

Убийца мнит, что убивает,
Убитый мнит, что пал в крови,—
Ни тот и ни другой не знает,
Куда ведут пути мои.Забвенье, даль — мои дороги,…

If the red slayer think he slays,
Or if the slain think he is slain,
They know not well the subtle waysI keep, and pass, and turn again.
Far or forgot to me is near;

If I could put my woods in song And tell what's there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,
And leave the cities void.
In my plot no tulips blow,— Snow-loving pines and oaks instead;