Above the green, above the grasses blow
A magic circle crosses a magic pole.
The colours play amid the skies,
While fluid shades dissolve in light.
It seems like golden strings will jingle
For melody relief to bring.
In blue are shapes and motifs plain:
The plots of life on shady days.
I used to love and was the one
Who would deny the earthly time.
I died for family and pride
As havoc ruined native site.
I used to love; For better I
The virtue raised the flags so high.
The horn to have me go and fight
Was singing “post” in gloomy night.
And now I lie in fields of honour
As moonlight fills the silver font.
The tiny crosses of the blooms
Are melting odours into dew
And leaving misery behind,
And glorifying us here lie.
6.06.2025
Перевод ст. автора Евгения Блейк «Эскиз».
The sketch
© Copyright: Евгения Блейк, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125060601424
Свидетельство о публикации №125060601424
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