449
От красоты я умерла.
Чуть обжилась в могиле,
Как в номер ближний к моему
Соседа подселили.
– Вы одержимы были чем?
– Я красотой. А Вы?
– Я правдой. Но они одно,
И кровно мы близки.
Так, словно стражи, в темноте
Вели мы разговор,
Пока мох губы не покрыл
И имена не стер.
26.08.2012
449
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed ?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, — the two are one ;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.