A hen began to count her chicks:
One, two, three,
Four, five, six,
Seven, eight,
Nine and ten —
A lot of worry for one hen!
Стала курица считать
Маленьких цыпляток:
Желтых пять
И черных пять,
А всего десяток.
«My verse written so early in my life / I didn't know I was a poet yet, / My verse which burst off, like drops from a fountain, / Or sparks from rocket jets; And burst like tiny demons through the holy / Sanctum where sleep and incense come together; / My verse that went on about death and...»
«How's life with the other woman? / Simpler, yeah? A stroke of oars / by a long coastline, and even / memory of me unmoors as a floating island (in the / sky, not on the waters)! Poor / spirits, souls! You should be solely / sisters and not paramours. How's life with an ordinary / ...»
«Chénier went up to meet the guillotine, / And I'm alive. That is a dreadful sin. / There are times that steel over everyone. / He is no bard who sings as bullets spin. / He is no father, trembling at the gate, / Whose arms rip battle-armor off his son. / There are times when the sun ...»
«Ah, longing for the homeland's air... / A languor long exposed as hooey! / I absolutely do not care / about where I am absolutely alone. Nor down what street of stone / I shlep a simple shopping basket / to a house that doesn't know it's home / any more than hospital o...»