By Boris Pasternak
I grew up. Was as Ganimed
Carried away by foul weather, dreams.
As wings the troubles widely raised
And tore me out of the fields.
I grew up. And the woven twilights
As veil had covered me all over.
With a parting wish in winy glasses,
With a ring of goblet melancholical.
I grew up, and here the heat of forearms
Was cooled by the embraces of the eagle.
The days are far, when as a forerunner,
My love, you floated above me.
But aren't we in just the same skies?
The pleasure of the height is real,
That, as a self-requemized swan, high
Shoulder to shoulder you are with eagle.
1913, 1928
Я рос. Меня... - перевод Б. Пастернака
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112120609033
Свидетельство о публикации №112120609033
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