by Robert Rozhdestvensky
As childhood, this night is naked,
The Earth becomes more wide this time...
My cheek is burnt by whisper, strident:
"Tell to me something!.. Tell some..."
"Tell something! Tell!
And be in a hurry!
Let waves be high to upper heaven.
Fill me. And devastate me rather,
But tell me something, any way!..
Pay then for that you kissed me
With words - eternal, as the past...
Why did you learn those words, indeed?
Let you say good words this time...
For that you haven't abjured then
My courage, though been intentional,
For woman's fate, not long in length -
Tell to me something in good manner..."
And saint, incautious, unwary,
What do yo ask? Truth? Or just lie?
But woman whispers:" Tell me, dear!
Tell something good for me this time..."
Как детство, ночь... - пер. Р. Рождественского
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113033102115
Свидетельство о публикации №113033102115
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