I hide my hands in a dark veil,
They ask me, why am I so pale?
Cause with a rue, acerb and sharp,
I drunk my lover up.
I won't forget, he went out, lurch
I ran down with no rail to touch,
I ran to catch him by the wicket,
To see his lips defaced and wicked.
"That was a joke!"- I gasp and cry-
"All was a jest. You leave, I die"-
He smiled, eerie and serene
And said: "its chilly, get back in."
А. Ахматова. Англ. Перевод. Сжала руки под темной
© Copyright: Сания Расулова, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117101904971
Свидетельство о публикации №117101904971
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