There will be nobody waiting,
Twilight on a winter day
Filling out empty painting
In the space of window frame.
Only quick and countless flashes
Of the white and fluffy orbs
Only roofs and snow and nothing
No one there but roofs and snow.
And again the wind will howl,
Swiftly spinning me along
Sadness twisting inside out
Thoughts of days long past and gone.
And again I’m pierced and stricken
By the endless guilt of old
And the window frame is creaking
Pierced by the relentless cold.
Suddenly without warning
Slightly shifts the curtain’s rim,
Silence by your pace determined
You will enter like a dream.
You will enter shining brightly,
Wearing something white and plain
Sawn from light and glowing fabric
That from which the snow is made.
Перевод Никого не будет в доме Б. Пастернака
© Copyright: Даниил Яник, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107030400467
Свидетельство о публикации №107030400467
Рецензии