волхвы не шли - им не было звезды;
пустое небо вдалеке висело,
наискосок глядя из-за гряды,
не зная ничего - оно опять успело
на юг услать стада косматых туч,
водой обильно спровадив в дорогу
и напоследок указав им слабый луч,
что приведет их к цели. понемногу
из глубины спускающейся тьмы,
пропитанной лишь злом и страхом,
зрачки далеких звезд узрели мы,
чтоб спрятаться, глаза зажмурив махом.
волхвы стояли, вперив в небосвод
в отчаянии свои пустые взоры;
со счета снова сбился звездочет
и, чтобы прекратить бессмысленные споры
о том, куда идти им и куда им плыть,
ни компасом, ни картой не владея,
решил себя немедля ослепить,
не трусом чтоб не слыть уже и не злодеем.
а что же мы - забыты и пусты?!
истерты ноги до десятого колена.
волхвы опять не ведают пути,
и мы не можем выбраться из плена.
забыты и пусты
© Copyright: Коцарев, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125092701596
Свидетельство о публикации №125092701596
Рецензии
англоязычный вариант от Алисы
The magi did not go — there was no star to guide,
The empty sky hung far away, cold and wide.
It peered askew from beyond the ridge’s line,
Knowing nothing, yet somehow it had the time
To send the shaggy herds of clouds off to the south,
To drench the road with water, driving them forth,
And, as a final gesture, to show a faint ray,
That might, perhaps, lead them to where they should stay.
Little by little, from the depths of the sinking dark,
Saturated with only evil and fear, we saw
The pupils of distant stars — and then, with a start,
We squeezed our eyes shut, shutting out the cold awe.
The magi stood, their hollow gazes fixed on the vault of the sky,
In despair, seeing nothing but emptiness fly.
The stargazer lost count yet again, in his mind,
And to stop the futile arguments, blind and unkind,
About where to go, where to sail, lost and unsure,
With neither compass nor map to show the way more,
He chose to blind himself at once, without delay,
Not to be called a coward, nor branded a traitor, they say.
And what of us — forgotten and hollow inside?
Our feet worn raw to the tenth generation’s stride.
The magi again do not know which way to go,
And we cannot break free from the prison we know.
Коцарев 11.09.2026 22:07 • Заявить о нарушении
The magi did not go — there was no star to guide,
The empty sky hung far away, cold and wide.
It peered askew from beyond the ridge’s line,
Knowing nothing, yet somehow it had the time
To send the shaggy herds of clouds off to the south,
To drench the road with water, driving them forth,
And, as a final gesture, to show a faint ray,
That might, perhaps, lead them to where they should stay.
Little by little, from the depths of the sinking dark,
Saturated with only evil and fear, we saw
The pupils of distant stars — and then, with a start,
We squeezed our eyes shut, shutting out the cold awe.
The magi stood, their hollow gazes fixed on the vault of the sky,
In despair, seeing nothing but emptiness fly.
The stargazer lost count yet again, in his mind,
And to stop the futile arguments, blind and unkind,
About where to go, where to sail, lost and unsure,
With neither compass nor map to show the way more,
He chose to blind himself at once, without delay,
Not to be called a coward, nor branded a traitor, they say.
And what of us — forgotten and hollow inside?
Our feet worn raw to the tenth generation’s stride.
The magi again do not know which way to go,
And we cannot break free from the prison we know.
Коцарев 11.09.2026 22:07 • Заявить о нарушении