От поетесите самоубийци това е най-известната авторка в превод на руски, както и най-популярната поетеса сред любителите на фантастика и дори днешни геймъри. Понеже на български има преведени само три стихчета, в които самоубийствените мисли са пропуснати, а най-известните строфи не са преведени, реших и аз да се включа с мой превод. Не мога да дам дори и средна оценка на измъчените стихове, все пак смесването на трагизъм с романтизъм може да намери някои отговори на въпроси около душата на грешника. По-долу са публикувани без превод няколко смислени според мен стиха.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Ще има още дни на роса с аромат по земята,

И лястовиците звучно ще се спускат в гората;

И жаби в гьола ще поемат нощна песен вяло,

И дивите гори ще процъфтяват в трепетно бяло;

Червенушки ще понесат в перцата си пламък,

Чуруликайки ритмично край оградите от камък;

И никой не ще знае нищо за война,

И не ще се грижи с нищо за това.

И никой не ще запамети, ни птици ни дървеса

Ако човечеството премине с чудеса

И пролетта сама ще се пробуди от студа

Не ще прозре къде изчезнахме в нощта.

-       - -

The Unchanging

Sun-swept beaches with a light wind blowing

From the immense blue circle of the sea,

And the soft thunder where long waves whiten --

These were the same for Sappho as for me.

Two thousand years -- much has gone by forever,

Change takes the gods and ships and speech of men --

But here on the beaches that time passes over

The heart aches now as then.

-       - -

Sara Teasdale

  IN THE CARPENTER"S SHOP

  MARY sat in the corner dreaming,

     Dim was the room and low,

  While in the dusk, the saw went screaming

           To and fro.

  Jesus and Joseph toiled together,

     Mary was watching them,

  Thinking of kings in the wintry weather

           At Bethlehem.

  Mary sat in the corner thinking,

     Jesus had grown a man;

  One by one her hopes were sinking

           As the years ran.

  Jesus and Joseph toiled together,

     Mary"s thoughts were far--

  Angels sang in the wintry weather

           Under a star.

  Mary sat in the corner weeping,

     Bitter and hot her tears--

  Little faith were the angels keeping

           All the years.

-       - -

Love And Death

Sara Teasdale

Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep,

And shall my soul that lies within your hand

Remember nothing, as the blowing sand

Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep

When winds along the darkened desert sweep?

Or would it still remember, tho" it spanned

A thousand heavens, while the planets fanned

The vacant ether with their voices deep?

Soul of my soul, no word shall be forgot,

Nor yet alone, beloved, shall we see

The desolation of extinguished suns,

Nor fear the void wherethro" our planet runs,

For still together shall we go and not

Fare forth alone to front eternity.

poetry,