Doesn't inspirit. Or have me. Or call my name.
Done, thrown away. Picked by roadside wind like a flower.
Eyes disengage, or are simply cut-off from power.
Waiter, please bring me my check as the ultimate claim.
All epilogues are lies. All roads, dust at the end.
God is alone, and it seems that His health is failing.
Town’s at the edge of despair, its bell towers are wailing,
Belting out loud the hymn ‘bout an outer land.
Warriors have received advance absolution at war.
Spartans, never again will they see their homeland.
I have returned my debts. I have shown my own hand.
And that's why no one is waiting for me anymore.
***
Не окрыляет. Не властвует. Не влечёт.
Выброшено. Развеяно у обочин.
Взгляд отрешен или попросту обесточен.
Официант, принесите мне гамбургский счёт.
Все эпилоги - ложь. Все дороги - прах.
Бог одинок и, похоже, серьезно болен.
Город отчаялся, и со своих колоколен
Он распевает гимн об иных мирах.
Воинам грехи отпущены наперёд.
Им не увидеть больше родимой Спарты.
Я отдала долги. Я открыла карты.
И потому меня больше никто не ждет.
Вера Полозкова Не Окрыляет English
© Copyright: Евгения Саркисьянц, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112040101410
Свидетельство о публикации №112040101410
Рецензии
I would even out the size of the lines in the following manner (13/13):
It doesn't inspirit. Or have me. Or call my name.
Thrown away. Picked by roadside wind like a flower.
Eyes disengage, or are simply cut-off from power.
Waiter, please bring me my check as the ultimate claim.
All epilogues are lies. All roads are dust at the end.
God is alone, and it seems that his health is failing.
Town’s at the edge of despair, bell towers are wailing,
Belting out loud the hymn about Holy outer land.
Warriors received advance absolution at war.
To see their home Sparta they’ll never be able.
I have turned in my debts. I laid cards on the table.
And that's the reason why no one awaits me no more.
Агата Жетем 05.06.2015 18:59 • Заявить о нарушении
It doesn't inspirit. Or have me. Or call my name.
Thrown away. Picked by roadside wind like a flower.
Eyes disengage, or are simply cut-off from power.
Waiter, please bring me my check as the ultimate claim.
All epilogues are lies. All roads are dust at the end.
God is alone, and it seems that his health is failing.
Town’s at the edge of despair, bell towers are wailing,
Belting out loud the hymn about Holy outer land.
Warriors received advance absolution at war.
To see their home Sparta they’ll never be able.
I have turned in my debts. I laid cards on the table.
And that's the reason why no one awaits me no more.
Агата Жетем 05.06.2015 18:59 • Заявить о нарушении
На это произведение написаны 2 рецензии, здесь отображается последняя, остальные - в полном списке.