My own

Кристина Девулите
When a rhyme is repeating, I scorn and berate me for cheating
Or for tenderly nursing a child that's sufficiently grown.
Words grow bolder, they blunder, or mockingly tear asunder,
And the lines that I want to surpass are forever my own.

When a day is repeating, I shrug, wish it luck with the Reaper.
I am jaded, and tired, and slowly becoming a stone.
You have nothing to offer, except for an intricate coffin,
And mistakes that I'll never surpass are remaining my own.


© Copyright: Кристина Девулите, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109081900214
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Interesting structure.
I relly like it.
Although I'm not sure about 'blunder'...

Беляева Дина   21.08.2009 06:41   •   Заявить о нарушении
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I meant it - that they blunder - and it fits phonetically, too:)) Or you mean that "blunder" still don't fit? I was attempting to be a bit sarcastic - perhaps it didn't work:(

Кристина Девулите   21.08.2009 06:54   Заявить о нарушении
'blunder' does not work well in the parallel construction with 'bolder', bacause it is not 'more blund'
or am I missing something?
My brain's been fried...
That's why I was saving reviews of your translations for later...:)

Беляева Дина   21.08.2009 07:14   Заявить о нарушении
Ok, I'll think about it!:)

Кристина Девулите   21.08.2009 07:36   Заявить о нарушении
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