Дремал с твоей поэмой тяжело
И уронил, с пол-книги, что листал.
Во сне из крыльев голубя число
Увидел на холме, где ты лежал.
Возможно, не случайно этим сном
Забылся, и не вспомнил, отчего
Солдат, затем поэт – и оба в том,
Солдат-поэт народа своего.
Мы знаем, что должны иметь ввиду,
Не сказанным, что между нами, брат,
Ещё одно, сказать не ерунду;
Победа за потери, боль утрат.
Ты шёл встречать объятия огня
На гребне Вими в этот день упал.
Война казалась та не для меня,
Другой мне путь, его я не проспал.
И даже для меня, кто знал вполне -
Опасный враг за Рейн ушёл едва.
Но если бы сказать о нём не мне,
То кто бы эти прочитал слова?
Павшему поэту Е. Т
© Copyright: Роберт Ли Фрост, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114011012720
Свидетельство о публикации №114011012720
Рецензии
To E.T.
I slumbered with your poems on my breast
Spread open as I dropped them half-read through
Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb
To see, if in a dream they brought of you,
I might not have the chance I missed in life
Through some delay, and call you to your face
First soldier, and then poet, and then both,
Who died a soldier-poet of your race.
I meant, you meant, that nothing should remain
Unsaid between us, brother, and this remained--
And one thing more that was not then to say:
The Victory for what it lost and gained.
You went to meet the shell's embrace of fire
On Vimy Ridge; and when you fell that day
The war seemed over more for you than me,
But now for me than you--the other way.
How over, though, for even me who knew
The foe thrust back unsafe beyond the Rhine,
If I was not to speak of it to you
And see you pleased once more with words of mine?
Роберт Ли Фрост 10.01.2014 23:13 • Заявить о нарушении
I slumbered with your poems on my breast
Spread open as I dropped them half-read through
Like dove wings on a figure on a tomb
To see, if in a dream they brought of you,
I might not have the chance I missed in life
Through some delay, and call you to your face
First soldier, and then poet, and then both,
Who died a soldier-poet of your race.
I meant, you meant, that nothing should remain
Unsaid between us, brother, and this remained--
And one thing more that was not then to say:
The Victory for what it lost and gained.
You went to meet the shell's embrace of fire
On Vimy Ridge; and when you fell that day
The war seemed over more for you than me,
But now for me than you--the other way.
How over, though, for even me who knew
The foe thrust back unsafe beyond the Rhine,
If I was not to speak of it to you
And see you pleased once more with words of mine?
Роберт Ли Фрост 10.01.2014 23:13 • Заявить о нарушении