***
Caressed by a velvet throw,
I summon back the recent dream.
Who won? Who lost? I wish to know,
Did it just seem?
Re-thinking it from the beginning,
Re-torturing myself in vain,
For it I have no word or meaning -
Was love its name?
The puzzle devilish and blurring,
Who was the hunter? Who, the prey?
My fluffy cat, by your long purring,
What do you say?
Between two adamant contenders,
Who, in whose hand, was but a ball?
Whose heart – yours? Mine? – went to surrender,
And race, and fall?
So after all, how shall I name it?
What gives me the remorse so sweet?
Is it a victory I’m claiming?
Is it defeat?
***
Под лаской плюшевого пледа
Вчерашний вспоминаю сон.
Что это было? Чья победа?
Кто побежден?
Все передумываю снова,
Всем перемучиваюсь вновь,
В том, для чего не знаю слова,
Была ль любовь?
Кто был охотник, кто добыча?
Все дьявольски наоборот!
Что понял, длительно мурлыча,
Сибирский кот?
В том поединке своеволий
Кто, в чьей руке, был только мяч?
Чье сердце – Ваше ли? Мое ли? –
Летело вскач?
И все-таки, что ж это было?
Чего так хочется и жаль?
Так и не знаю – победила ль?
Побеждена ль?
Марина Цветаева Под лаской плюшевого пледа... Engl
© Copyright: Евгения Саркисьянц, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110122905953
Свидетельство о публикации №110122905953
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Красиво!!
Being caressed by a plush wrapper
‘bout past I am dreaming now
What was it? Is there a capper?
Who goes down?
I’m changing my mind once again
There are some things that I sick of
In that I could not find a name,
Was there a love?
Who was too slow? Who’s in hurry?
It’s contrariwise, I bet!
What’s understood by a purring
Siberian cat?
With only ball in a hand who starts
A self-will duel face-to-face
And was it your or mine - a heart’s
At a great pace.
And, after all, what’s going on?
What I regret and want at most?
Yet I don’t know: If I have won?
Or have I lost?
Дмитрий Волков2 17.01.2011 11:02 • Заявить о нарушении
Being caressed by a plush wrapper
‘bout past I am dreaming now
What was it? Is there a capper?
Who goes down?
I’m changing my mind once again
There are some things that I sick of
In that I could not find a name,
Was there a love?
Who was too slow? Who’s in hurry?
It’s contrariwise, I bet!
What’s understood by a purring
Siberian cat?
With only ball in a hand who starts
A self-will duel face-to-face
And was it your or mine - a heart’s
At a great pace.
And, after all, what’s going on?
What I regret and want at most?
Yet I don’t know: If I have won?
Or have I lost?
Дмитрий Волков2 17.01.2011 11:02 • Заявить о нарушении