поэтический перевод "РАСПАХНУЛА ПОСЛЕДНЮЮ ДВЕРЦУ…"
Now, I’ve opened the last door. It’s so easy.
But I lost all my keys in the haze.
The remainder of tierces makes breezy
All my life on man’s seventh maze.
Take French leave? No, I can’t. Look around.
All this reticent mist — not for me.
Breath, the sea, one more step on the ground —
All I take for my trip to be free.
Is it sadness? Affection? I don’t care.
Only fragments of chains on milestones.
Midas, I’m not your wife. Are you scared?
Bona Dea, watching, hears your groans.