The more you wish to have a rest,
The more life seems to be quite terrible,
From fields is crawling a wet haze,
Into my breast creaps a wet mist
Along the nights so velvet...
Forget about your life, which's gone...
Forget about life, that will be...
From fields the dark of night is crawling...
One thing, one thing -
To sleep, to sleep...
But all the way -
Someone will wake!
27 august 1909
Чем больше хочешь... - пер. А. Блока
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112102405945
Свидетельство о публикации №112102405945
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