The evening's coming at the sea shore,
And I'm dreaming of your love,
After a midnight wind is blowing
Through reeds, the tenderless greens' row.
There on the masts, making a fire,
The ships are going to sea,
And you - a night girl, you - the ground,
Again are flying me to dream.
You are - the charming girl and lying,
Lit by the reeling fires all,
And all in darkness of the bay sight,
All covered with a light mist roll.
Please, let me burn on sand a fire
To meet you, dear, on the shore
And braid a wreath of passion fatal -
To plait a flower of amour...
And being then is such a light thing -
You are again - before me now.
The loving soul is inevitably
Longing for a sweet death glow.
24 november 1908
Уже над морем... - перевод А. Блока
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115041404362
Свидетельство о публикации №115041404362
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