7.
Thinking of something else, undiscovered,
like a buried treasure, I absentmindedly
One by one, poppy by poppy
I beheaded my whole garden.
So, someday, in the dry
Summer, on the edge of a field,
Death's absent-minded hand
Will pluck off a head — mine.
7
Π ΠΌΡΡΠ»ΡΡ
ΠΎΠ± ΠΈΠ½ΠΎΠΌ, ΠΈΠ½Π°ΠΊΠΎΠΌ,
Π Π½Π΅Π½Π°ΠΉΠ΄Π΅Π½Π½ΠΎΠΌ, ΠΊΠ°ΠΊ ΠΊΠ»Π°Π΄,
Π¨Π°Π³ Π·Π° ΡΠ°Π³ΠΎΠΌ, ΠΌΠ°ΠΊ Π·Π° ΠΌΠ°ΠΊΠΎΠΌ —
ΠΠ±Π΅Π·Π³Π»Π°Π²ΠΈΠ»Π° Π²Π΅ΡΡ ΡΠ°Π΄.
Π’Π°ΠΊ, ΠΊΠΎΠ³Π΄Π°-Π½ΠΈΠ±ΡΠ΄Ρ, Π² ΡΡΡ
ΠΎΠ΅
ΠΠ΅ΡΠΎ, ΠΏΠΎΠ»Ρ Π½Π° ΠΊΡΠ°Ρ,
Π‘ΠΌΠ΅ΡΡΡ ΡΠ°ΡΡΠ΅ΡΠ½Π½ΠΎΠΉ ΡΡΠΊΠΎΡ
Π‘Π½ΠΈΠΌΠ΅Ρ Π³ΠΎΠ»ΠΎΠ²Ρ — ΠΌΠΎΡ.