Порой для удовольствия мужчин
Садятся альбатросы на суда,
Корабль скользит над горечью пучин,
А птицы отдыхать летят туда.
Едва они садятся на досках,
Не по себе Царям небес одних,
И крылья белыми, что в небесах,
Как вёсла мокрые висят у них.
Устал, крылат, не вовремя ослаб!
Красив когда-то, а теперь смешон!
Вон трубку в клюв суёт, безмозглый раб,
Другой, хромает, подражает он!
Царям небес
© Copyright: Вячеслав Толстов, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119022605932
Свидетельство о публикации №119022605932
Рецензии
Where, in the hazy morning, runs
The stony branch that pools and drips,
Where red-haws and the wild-rose hips
Are strewn like pebbles; where the sun's
Own gold seems captured by the weeds;
To see, through scintillating seeds,
The hunters steal with glimmering guns.
To stand within the dewy ring
Where pale death smites the bone-set blooms,
And everlasting's flowers, and plumes
Of mint, with aromatic wing!
And hear the creek,--whose sobbing seems
A wild man murmuring in his dreams,--
And insect violins that sing!
So sweet a voice, so consonant with the music
of the singers of past times, heard in a place so
fresh and strange, will surely not pass without
its welcome from the lovers of genuine poetry.
Вячеслав Толстов 11.03.2019 20:15 • Заявить о нарушении
The stony branch that pools and drips,
Where red-haws and the wild-rose hips
Are strewn like pebbles; where the sun's
Own gold seems captured by the weeds;
To see, through scintillating seeds,
The hunters steal with glimmering guns.
To stand within the dewy ring
Where pale death smites the bone-set blooms,
And everlasting's flowers, and plumes
Of mint, with aromatic wing!
And hear the creek,--whose sobbing seems
A wild man murmuring in his dreams,--
And insect violins that sing!
So sweet a voice, so consonant with the music
of the singers of past times, heard in a place so
fresh and strange, will surely not pass without
its welcome from the lovers of genuine poetry.
Вячеслав Толстов 11.03.2019 20:15 • Заявить о нарушении