How many, how many of them, white and blue
Eat from the hands!
Whole kingdoms are clucking around your lips
O Lowliness!
In gold of cup the deadly sweat
Does not translate.
The mantle-wearing general will vanish
Like dove of white.
Every cloud like a chest circles
In a bad hour.
There is your visage, O she-devil, in
Each perfect flower.
You fleeting foam, the salt of the sea..
In torment and foam —
For what reason should I obey
You, armless stone?
Сколько их, сколько их ест из рук,
Белых и сизых!
Целые царства воркуют вкруг
Уст твоих, Низость!
Не переводится смертный пот
В золоте кубка.
И полководец гривастый льнёт
Белой голубкой.
Каждое облако в час дурной —
Грудью круглится.
В каждом цветке неповинном — твой
Лик, Дьяволица!
Бренная пена, морская соль…
В пене и в муке —
Повиноваться тебе доколь,
Камень безрукий?
____
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