Kэy Рутледж
А вы считали это порочностью, Пласт Прибрежный.
Я любила лошадь и гонки
В светлые июньские дни,
И вы это называли азартными играми, Пласт Прибрежный.
Я была просителем за проституток,
И за владельцев бара, и за приблудных,
Кто стали ворами и душегубами,
И Вы назвали меня сводней безнравственности и криминала.
Я тратила и отдавала свои деньги,
В то время как Вы стали землевладельцами и прихожанами,
И смотрели с презрением на меня, Пласт Прибрежный.
Я любила уличных скрипачей и танцоров,
И рассказчиков разных историй,
Вы полагали потраченной жизнь мою вхолостую.
Я опустилась в недостаточность средств,
И беспомощной слепоты и одиночества —
(Все скрипачи, все те дружки, ушли.) —
И Вы рассматривали меня как жертву несправедливости,
И проходили мимо меня.
Я умерла.
Но я следую за Вами или Вы за мной
В царство небесное?
*
142.Kay Rutledge
I loved hospitality and the friendly glass,
And you counted it to sin, Spoon River.
I loved a horse and a race
In the bright June days,
And you called it gambling, Spoon River.
I was the intercessor of the harlots,
And the saloon-keepers, and the ill-begotten
Who became thieves and murderers,
And you named me as a friend to vice and crime.
I spent and gave away my money,
While you became land owners and church members,
And looked down upon me, Spoon River.
I loved fiddlers, and dancers,
And the tellers of stories,
And you considered my life wasted.
I sank down into meagre means,
And helpless blindness, and loneliness —
(All the fiddlers, all my cronies gone.) —
And you saw me as the victim of unrighteousness,
And passed me by.
I died.
But did I follow you, or lead you
Into the kingdom of heaven?
Свидетельство о публикации №115022205412
Do you think it is a vicious, Coastal Plast.
I loved the horse and the race
In the bright days of June,
And you call it gambling, Coastal Plast.
I was an asylum for prostitutes
And for the owners of the bar, and stragglers,
Who have become thieves and murderers,
And you call me a consolidated immorality and crime.
I spent and gave their money,
While you become landowners and parishioners,
And looked at me with contempt, Coastal Plast.
I loved violinists and street dancers,
And the narrator of stories,
You thought my life spent in vain.
I sank into a lack of funds,
Blindness and helplessness and loneliness -
(All violinists, all those buddies are gone.) -
And have you considered me as a victim of injustice,
And passed me.
I died.
But I follow you or you follow me
In the kingdom of heaven?
Вячеслав Толстов 22.02.2015 13:51 Заявить о нарушении