Eyes of blue and hair of sandy.
You are just a fisherman.
Acrid smell of tar and brandy
Suits you fine as your dark tan.
At the sight of your bare shoulders
Women cannot help but sigh.
Only rushing waves and boulders
Could divine the reason why.
And the girl who trades in fishes
Helping mother by this chore
Often rambles lost in visions
In the evening on the shore.
Her cheeks are pale and arms are weakened.
Her exhausted look is sad.
She caught crabs at every week-end
When they crawled upon the sand.
But today she seems to cut it.
How can she be working hard
If she can’t control her heartbeat
And besides has lost her heart?
20 ноября 2009
Оригинал «Рыбак» А.Ахматовой
A Fisherman - А. Ахматова
© Copyright: Марина Ермолова, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109112005382
Свидетельство о публикации №109112005382
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