Sisters three of evil fame –
Aye –
There – those fumes and flame –
Youngest sister, keep an eye.
Men – too wicked they became –
Should be burned till dawn is nigh.
Middle sister, shun delays,
Form the yarn to mesh.
Me, the eldest in our ways,
I’ve figured blood and flesh:
Beads are figures; in a blaze
They thirst to pulse afresh.
Lustrous fabrics twisted, steered:
Knot and thread;
We’re Weird, Weird, Weird,
Fervour into cloth we’ll spread.
Yarn aflame, threads are seared,
Burn them, spin them full of dread!
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«Пряжа-Пламя», «Перевал», 1907, № 4 (февр.), С. 24. Также в сб. «К. Д. Бальмонт. Песни мстителя. — Париж: 1907»
Balmont K. The Yarn of Flame
© Copyright: Рф Бартон, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124011800641
Свидетельство о публикации №124011800641
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