A figure from afar resembling bough
An iron squirt sticks into brain the dawns
From out the looking glass the guest he comes to me
I talk and he is silent in response
Aloud to him I numerate my thoughts
Which are not there for the universe
I do exist solely as the source
Of magnet phychosphere and my woes
The inexhaustible fountain flows inwards
Like fairy-tale out of which no go
I do exist only that nearer morning
I could out of void do outgrow
The void which is on tiles stuck out
And slowly flows between the slits
I say to guest I guess it’s over now
Go you go the mist between the fields
During that time it dies out quietly
And everything a-trembles tousling space
My guest he left and from afar like bough
He now resembles like me in that chase
перевод R. A. Olden Без сна
© Copyright: Андрей Возьмилов, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109070903497
Свидетельство о публикации №109070903497
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