For the deafening chivalry of the years to come,
For the best of the breeds human is,
I have lost the festivities of my native hometown,
All my honor and right not to grieve.
Claws of century are so deep in my throat
That it feels almost like a wolfhound:
Hide me up the sleeve of a coat,
I am not a wolf by my blood.
I despise broken bones, cowards and mud,
And the scaffold that looks deadly gory,
Bring me in a spot where around,
Nature’s shining in its primal glory,
Get me where the wide rivers flow
And the pine trees are reaching the sky.
I am not a wolf, that I know,
And only from equals I'll die.
Century-Wolfhound Mandelstam
© Copyright: Королева-Пенская, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124080500102
Свидетельство о публикации №124080500102
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