The message to Yury Verkhovensky
The rain is small, the talk is slow,
From cilinder a lock of hair's seen,
The laugh is light, and some - unhallowed.
Is that a usual meeting?
But here - one of the lightest geniuses
With a hazy torch in his hand
Brought gift of your's into my dwelling,
Where I am anxious and sad.
Through rustle of autumn, autumn chilling
I recollect you, I love so
In all marks of the new beginning
In old and melancholy drawing.
We had a laugh, a joke and trick,
At least we all should sail forever
Through quick and fast and lanquid idyll
To night, into the mournfull elegy.
September 1910
Юрию Верховенскому - пер. А. Блока
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114062505338
Свидетельство о публикации №114062505338
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