By Osip Mandelstam
Only child's books - to read,
Only child's thoughts - to caress,
All the great - to dispel away,
To rise up - from the deep grief.
I'm tired from life - to death,
Nothing from that life I could accept,
But I love with all heart my poor land,
Because I haven't seen the other place.
I was rocking there in garden and frequently
On the simple wood swing, but as ever
All the dark high fir-trees I remember
As in hazy state of hard delirium.
1908
Только детские книги... - пер. О. Мандельштама
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113030101588
Свидетельство о публикации №113030101588
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