They will bury me deep in the ground,
Grass will cover my desolate hill,
And we’ll know by a far-away sound:
Somewhere rain has just set to begin.
And we’ll know without questioning even
On awakening from idle sleep:
If it’s silent – then it must be Autumn,
If it’s boisterous – it must be Spring.
And it’s good that those passionless sounds
Are devoid of the rapture and grief;
That from torture of love and its wounds
We’re protected with armours of grave.
Need not hurry, we’re snug and we’re docile:
Here, it seems, we have time to reflect
On the seizures of sensitive living
And what people by "dissolute" meant.
1915
vip/2013
* * *
Похоронят, зароют глубоко
Aleksander Blok - They will bury me deep
© Copyright: Виктор Постников, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113060207640
Свидетельство о публикации №113060207640
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