Перевод Н. Гумилева Однообразные

In shadows cast by waning days, I tread a path of silent woe, 
As roses fall in muted ways, their petals kissed by grief's soft glow. 
The nightingale’s sweet song is lost, its melodies now veiled in pain, 
For love commands with tender cost—an ache that flows like bitter rain. 

Beneath her skin, the pulse of time beats on with sorrowed grace, 
Yet still within this heart of mine, hope flickers in an empty space. 
If life remains a fleeting dream, it’s woven from our fondest sighs; 
Like blindfolded children we will scheme to reach the mount where vision lies. 

To realms where only dreams reside, beyond the clouds so pure and white— 
We'll seek the blooms that once had died and listen for the fading light. 
For every rose that falls away speaks of the beauty wrapped in loss; 
And through this journey's somber sway, we’ll bear together all its cost. 

Though days may blend in shades of grey and echoes haunt each breath I take, 
Her whispered love will guide my way through valleys deep where shadows wake. 
So let us wander hand in hand toward skies adorned with starlit streams— 
In search of what was never planned—the fleeting fragrance left in dreams.