Above the sun little sparks took flight,
And settled onto the dirty snow.
Under December’s watchful gaze
A man was walking down the street.
His autumn coat flung open wide,
Like a soul laid bare without disguise.
On this gray and gloomy Sunday
He strolled along, whistling, unhurried.
Lulled by ice and whirling snow,
He had just awoken yesterday.
Through his chest, in melting drops,
Spring had slipped between his ribs.
It crushed, it swept, it melted down,
It nullified each trigger point.
All he had guarded it put at stake—
Just vanity, glitter, and show.
Without hope—there is no real life,
Only petty and empty fuss.
Beauty lives in the eyes of the beholder,
The only true beauty that lasts.
The gray city burst into colors,
The swift run of time stood still.
Smiling at the sleepy passersby,
A man was wandering down the street.
перевод Глинская Ева
A man was wandering down the street...
© Copyright: Сергей Александровский 2, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125093006034
Свидетельство о публикации №125093006034
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