My poor, my distant friend,
Look: in the sleepless hour
Of sickness in the heart,
Mysterious and steady illness
Consumes my part,
No more I feel the need
Of people, cheerless and despondent,
Anticipating Christ…
Yet only devil they embrace…
And feel despair
Because of lies…
All purposely polite,
All purposely would hurt…
Or – shall we cut the spurt,
And illness is - the shield?
29 Dec 1912
vip/22 Feb 2013
* * *
Мой бедный, мой далекий друг
Alexandr Blok - My poor, my distant friend
© Copyright: Виктор Постников, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113022205095
Свидетельство о публикации №113022205095
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