Horse — lame.
Sword — rusty.
Who — now?
Leader of crowds.
Step — hour,
Sigh — century,
Look — down.
All — there.
Foe. — Friend.
Thorn. — Laurel.
All — dream...
He. — Horse.
Horse — lame.
Sword — rusty.
Cloak — old.
Stature — straight.
Конь — хром,
Меч — ржав.
Кто — сей?
Вождь толп.
Шаг — час,
Вздох — век,
Взор — вниз.
Все — там.
Враг. — Друг.
Терн. — Лавр.
Всё — сон…
— Он. — Конь.
Конь — хром.
Меч — ржав.
Плащ — стар.
Стан — прям.
«Suspecting not yours, but a prompted reply, / A silent forbiddance I’ve read in your eye, / But still! O how more understandably speaks / This genuine and elegant blush of the cheeks. This call of the flowers that sweetly pervades, / This languid approach of the vespertine shades, / Thi...»
«Sensing that loved ones have told you, “Say no,” / I read in your eyes what your answer bespeaks, / But even more lucid are signals that show / On the telltale opulent blush of your cheeks, In the plaint of the flowers that languish and wilt, / In the solace of shade that has rushed in ...»
«Yes, right you are! Alone for outlines airy / I am so fine. / All velvet mine with all its twinkle merry— / Two wings of mine. O, never ask me, wherefrom I appear / Or whither flit! / Upon a flow’r I have alighted here / To breathe and sit. How long, without an effort, aim or worry...»
«Look now: one bright flit in the air / And I flaunt my precious bling. / All of this velvet with its flicker-flair / Is only a wing, plus a wing. Don’t ask from whence I’ve come, / Or whither I’m bound when I leave. / Here on this flower in blithe slumberdom / I perch, and breathe...»