There are faces, looking like the pompous portals,
Where the great is seen in the little begotten.
There are faces — looking like the shabby shacks,
Where they boil beef liver and stomachs for snacks.
Some others have cold and completely dead faces,
They are shut with bars, like in detention spaces.
Some others are — towers in which for ages
No one lives or looks out of window cages.
But I had acquainted with a small hut one day,
Which was plain and deprived of all richness away.
From its window the breath of a spring daytime
Flew out with blossom scent and romantic rhyme.
To greatness and splendor the world truly belongs!
There are faces — looking like victorious songs.
From their sunny notes was composed the verses
And carol of sky heights and universes!
1-2 July, 2024
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Фото: kulturamgo.ru
Заболоцкий О красоте человеческих лиц in English
© Copyright: Валентина Ильина-Печенова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124070201363
Свидетельство о публикации №124070201363
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