Dove to me do not send,
Letters restless do not write,
Wind March in the face not vey.
I went yesterday in a green paradise,
Where to rest for body and soul
Under the canopy of shady poplar trees.
And here I see the town,
Booths and barracks near the palace,
It must be ice, Chinese yellow bridge.
The third hour of me are you waiting for - chilled,
And you can not get away from the porch
And you wonder, how many new stars.
Gray squirrel jump in the alder,
Swallow fearful escape,
Quinoa you I'm calling,
That was not scared groom
The blue swirling snow
Dead bride waiting.
А. Ахматова Милому перевод на английский
© Copyright: Евгений Шестернин 5, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116080207762
Свидетельство о публикации №116080207762
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