Love at the closing of our days
is apprehensive and very tender.
Glow brighter, brighter, farewell rays
of one last love in its evening splendor.
Blue shade takes half the world away:
through western clouds alone some light is slanted.
O tarry, O tarry, declining day,
enchantment, let me stay enchanted.
The blood runs thinner, yet the heart
remains as ever deep and tender.
O last belated love, thou art
a blend of joy and of hopeless surrender.
translated by Vladimir Nabokov
Oh what I wouldn’t give to write just one poem as exquisite as this one. Do you know if any of his poems in English translation are collected in a book? Would love to own one if possible. thanks, Len.
Ron
Amazon has a few used hardcover copies of a book of his but that’s the only one I know of. I found this in an anthology I’ve had for years from my old bookstore days.