People don’t laugh at funerals,
except maybe in their hearts.
For as long as the speeches are ringing out,
breathe evenly.
And measure against veracity
the tears or the praise,
knowing that justice
is quietly waiting in the comer.
На похоронах не смеются,
разве только в душе.
Покуда раздаются
речи, мерно дыши.
И замеряй на правдивость
слезы или хвалу,
зная, что справедливость
тихо ждет в углу.
«And I need no girl. / By the cold of will, / By the trace of blue / I will alone go. Widowed and an orphan / You were till I conquered. / By the willing trace / Of rushing spring water. I'll wash away feats / From the glory, from pus. / In your glory I'll / Give drink to the hors...»
«O, by every wind / Shaken lotus! / George's shyness, / George's kindness... The childish — severe — deadly importance / Of gigantic eyes / Wide and moist. Thus deadly torment / From the rags peers. / And the excessive / Weight of a spear Not here — with a proud / Laugh,...»
«With thorn, not with laurel / As a king crowned, / In a saddle — with wings! Around the shape narrow / On the black velvet / Maltese gold is. Unbreakable thorn / Needles — a vow / To friend and God. High bending / Of a swan, on the side / A Maltese sword. The knight of Mal...»
«Blessed are the ones that left your daughters, Earth, / To fight in wartime battle and to run, / Blessed are the ones that having never tried / Comfort went to the fields Elysian. Thus grows the laurel - writer of the years, / Heater of battle, sober, with harsh leaves. / I will never exc...»