My half-life’s on the swing,
The days both dull and wild:
One day I’d revel, mild,
The next one I’d weep and sing.
What if destruction lies ahead?
What if behind me, untold,
His hand – with its unfathomed hold
As mirror covering – is spread?..
When it reflects in my turn,
Then, horror-struck, orbs closed tight,
I’ll depart to realm of night,
From where one does not return.
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«Я коротаю жизнь мою…», 1910
Blok A. My half-lifes on the swing...
© Copyright: Рф Бартон, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124082103016
Свидетельство о публикации №124082103016
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