La Fuite de la Lune

A kinti l�tben b�ke v�r,
�lomb�ke mindenk�ppen,
�rny�kvil�g m�ly csendj�ben,
M�ly csendben, hol az �rny meg�ll.

Halld a s�r�st: f�lbe t�p�,
Egy mag�nyos mad�r gy�sza;
P�rj�t sz�l�tja ki�ltva,
A v�lasz k�d�s hegyb�l j�.

Azt�n a Hold visszavonul,
�gb�l sarl�j�t ler�ntva,
Elsz�ll s�t�t barlangj�ba,
Arc�ra s�rga f�tyol hull.

Les Silhouettes

A tenger sz�rk�n pettyezett,
Az unott, holt sz�l sem dalolt,
S mint hervadt lev�l, sz�ll a hold
A h�borg� �b�l felett.

Fekszik a fak� homokban
A haj� rajza feket�n:
Kismatr�z a fed�lzet�n
M�szik �s kacag gondtalan.

Fent p�lingok kiab�lnak,
Hol hom�ly-mez�n l�pkednek
Barna arat�leg�nyek,
Ak�r az �gen az �rnyak.

Oscar Wilde: Impressions

La Fuite de la Lune

To outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand,
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Save for a cry that echoes shrill
From some lone bird disconsolate;
A corncrake calling to its mate;
The answer from the misty hill.

And suddenly the moon withdraws
Her sickle from the lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.

Les Silhouettes

The sea is flecked with bars of grey
The dull dead wind is out of tune,
And like a withered leaf the moon
Is blown across the stormy bay.

Etched clear upon the pallid sand
The black boat lies: a sailor boy
Clambers aboard in careless joy
With laughing face and gleaming hand.

And overhead the curlews cry,
Where through the dusky upland grass
The young brown-throated reapers pass,
Like silhouettes against the sky.