Tell me you, those, who have been burning,
Who have been turned to ashes by their love,
Who have been from the cradle yearning
To love the world and see the sun above,
Who are reciting Rustaveli’s strings by heart,
How should I act? I am the edge of cliff,
Abrupt and gentle, and a work of art.
An arrow pierced my soul, and it's a glyph.
Love’s a hard nut to crack, I know,
It is my guest, and though the chance is slim,
I'll recklessly submit and whistleblow,
Just hoping that the same is felt by him.
Перевод Бальмонта
© Copyright: Королева-Пенская, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120061805455
Свидетельство о публикации №120061805455
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