In haze, and more blue than a labdanum,
Like a silver - are the panels.
Towards my face - suddenly
There is flying a feather.
And looks are cris-crossed, and quavered
Your voice - what you asking for now? -
As a bohemia glass had a cracking
And rang a song in that time.
The moment of anguish and challenge,
The movement - as a long wild cry,
And merged in the bluish haze again -
The image, the face so light.
All lasted - for only one moment,
It casted off... floated far...
The rival! - I waited you longly
Just as beatiful as you are...
5 sept 1915
В тумане, синее ладана... - пер. М. Цветаевой
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112090703130
Свидетельство о публикации №112090703130
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