Я.. у меня просто недостает слов, чтобы описать восторг, который я испытываю, видя
ЭТОCigarettes’ smoke ate all the fresh air.
Room as a chapter of Kruchenihov’s “Abyss”.
Do you remember, behind this window
I stroked your hand, being so frenzied.
Now you are sitting, heart closed and ironed,
Look like you going turn me out the next eve...
I see the muddy hall where I am trying
Put my hand, broken by tremble, to the sleeve.
I’ll go out, will throw my body to crowded street,
Already wild, will get mad with despair.
Don’t do it, please, oh my dear, oh my sweety heart.
Let’s say good bye to each other right there.
You know that my love is like heavy dumb-bell,
Which hangs on you, wherever you went.
Let me with last cry completely howl out
Bitterness of my heart-hurting complaints.
When bull get tortured with work and exhausted
He stops it, goes to lie down in sea waves.
Besides your love, I don’t see any ocean,
But your love can not be prayed for the rest.
When tired elephant wish idle away his time
He just goes and takes a lie in flamed sand.
Besides your love I don’t see any other sun,
But I don’t know who are with you and where.
If you tired out by this way any poet,
He would exchange love for money and fame.
But for me there is no so pleasant sound
As sound of your lovely darling sweet name.
I couldn’t throw myself out in the stair-well,
Nor take a poison, not bullet to the temple.
Nothing in whole world upon me is valid
Besides the blade of your knife’s cutting edge.
If I could know, whether empty leafs of my worlds
Can make you stop right there with eager breath.
Please, let me line with all my last tenderness
These your last clear-cut, moving out steps. как, КАК я могла когда-то говорить, что не люблю Маяковского?!! его стихи - это то, что заряжает лучше, чем тысяча фанфиков вместе взятых.
в переводе он так и остался Маяковским. вот он, поэт моей мечты..
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