When they say to me: “Alexandria” —
I see the white walls of a house,
A smallish garden with beds of stocks,
The pale sun of an autumn sunset,
And I hear the sounds of distant flutes.
When they say to me: “Alexandria” —
I see the stars above a retiring city,
Drunken sailors in its dark alleys,
The girl doing the “wasp” dance,
And I hear the sound of tambourines
and the shouts of a brawl.
When they say to me: “Alexandria”—
I see the palish crimson sunset over a green sea,
Shaggy twinkling stars,
And bright gray eyes under thick brows,
The eyes I see even then
When they do not say to me: “Alexandria.”
Когда мне говорят: «Александрия»,
Я вижу белые стены дома,
Небольшой сад с грядкой левкоев,
Бледное солнце осеннего вечера
И слышу звуки далёких флейт.
Когда мне говорят: «Александрия»,
Я вижу звёзды над стихающим городом,
Пьяных матросов в тёмных кварталах,
Танцо́вщицу, пляшущую «осу»,
И слышу звук тамбурина и крики ссоры.
Когда мне говорят: «Александрия»,
Я вижу бледно-багровый закат над зелёным морем,
Мохнатые мигающие звёзды
И светлые серые глаза под густыми бровями,
Которые я вижу и тогда,
Когда не говорят мне: «Александрия!»
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