CLOUDS
М.Лермонтов
Clouds of sky, eternal pilgrims!
In an azure steppe, in a pearl line
You are rushing as like me, exiles,
From the northern side to southern one.
Who is driving you: is it fate’s decision?
Is it a secret envy? Or an open malice?
Or because of a crime of the previous conviction?
Or your friends calumnious lies?
No, you are bored with barren fields ...
Stranger to you are passions and strange to trials;
Forever being cold, forever being free,
You have no homeland, you have no exile.
Переводы Тучи
© Copyright: Георгий Задворнов, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122053003177
Свидетельство о публикации №122053003177
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