Zachody słońca, nostalgia przemijania .. Sunsets, nostalgia of passing ..
Kto pogubił te pióra różowe na niebie?
Aniołowie kochania, kochania, kochania. -
Popłynęli daleko - nie do mnie i ciebie,
lecz tam, gdzie szyby płoną snem oczekiwania.
Who has lost
these pink feathers in the sky?
Angels of
Love.. Love .. Love
They flown
far away – not to me and you
But where windows
burn with dreams of waiting
Maria Pawlikowska-Jasnorzewska
Fair is the
sun when first he flames above,
Flinging
his joy down in a happy beam;
And happy
he who can salute with love
The sunset
far more glorious than a dream.
Rzucając nam dzień dobry! Jak wybuch z ciemności
Szczęśliwy ten, kto może pozdrowić w miłości
Swój zachód promienniejszy nawet od marzenia.
Charles Baudelaire
Slowly the
west reaches for clothes of new colours
which it
passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look,
and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part
climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth,
leaving
you, not really belonging to either,
not so helplessly
dark as that house that is silent,
not so
unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing
that turns
to a star each night and climbs
leaving you
(it is impossible to untangle the threads)
your own
life, timid and standing high and growing,
so that,
sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment
your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star
Rainer Maria Rilke
