^Интерпретация стихотворения О.Э. Мандельштама на основе перевода Дмитрия Смирнова
Insomnia. Homer. The rows of stretched sails.
The catalogue of ships I've read up to mesotes:
The lengthy brood of cranes, the train towards acrotes,
Which long ago rose up above the land of Hellas.
It’s like a wedge of cranes towards the distant shores –
Kings' crowns to foam alike, from which once born was Venus.
Where are you sailing to? If not Our Dame of Paris*,
What Troy would be to you, Achaean men of war?
Marina, Ariman -- they're being moved by amor.
Whom shall I listen to? Yet silent Homer is,
And mare tenebrarum cares for caress,
Still craving heavily for hedonism in armor
_____________
*) Paris ~ penis
***
© Copyright: Кай Врагнародов, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120092704390
Свидетельство о публикации №120092704390
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