Why O soul are you so choral
And so short on names to adore?
And the wind of match, easy laurel,
Comes impromptu, unseen afore,
Pulls a cloud of dust a-waving,
Paper petals along, a few,
Leaves forever; or rather, maybe,
Winds around completely new.
Hail you Orpheus's spacious air,
You decamp to a deep-sea lea.
For a world never made I cared,
I released my leftover "me".
In a miracle grove I quested
And discovered a sky-blue cave...
How come I am real and destined
Unmistakably to the grave?
Original: Osip ("Joseph") Mandelstam, 1911
http://slova.org.ru/mandelshtam/otchegodushatakpevucha/
Why O soul are you so choral?..
© Copyright: Lxe, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115090701255
Свидетельство о публикации №115090701255
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