Sonnet
You are equally ready consorts in the
Service of flattery or reverie; should
One call you you, or call you
Thou, Second Paeon, Fourth Paeon?
As on coins, your once bright
Features are eroded, and you
Pour out mossy lines of a
Gravestone, like icing on cakes.
You are the deathly pale photo
Of ghostly blue heights in a well.
You are a drunken beer bung,
You are that messenger at the
New Year who brings us orchids.
Breathing into his iced hood.
Сонет
На службу Лести иль Мечты
Равно готовые консорты,
Назвать вас вы, назвать вас ты,
Пэон второй — пэон четвёртый?
Как на монетах, ваши стёрты
Когда-то светлые черты,
И строки мшистые плиты
Глазурью льёте вы на торты.
Вы — сине-призрачных высот
В колодце снимок помертвелый,
Вы — блок пивной осатанелый,
Вы — тот посыльный в Новый год,
Что орхидеи нам несёт,
Дыша в башлык обледенелый.
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«To Klyuev Now my love is not what it used to be. / Oh, I know, you are grieving, you are grieving / That the broom of the moon / Didn’t splash around the puddles of verses. Feeling sad and rejoicing at the star / That falls down onto your eyebrows / You have given the cabin a heart thr...»
«There’s crazy happiness in friendship. / And the convulsion of wild passions — / The fire melts the body down / As if it were a stearine candle. Oh my beloved! give me your hands — / I’m not used to doing it any other way — / I want to wash them at this time of parting / With ...»
«You loose your darling only once, / And never find his trace on planet. / And he was so close before, / But, he had left, and darkness settles. And even if he left at day, / This does not matter any longer. / Let’s get him back, before too late, / Before he reached his final road. Y...»