ß íå çíàþ, çà÷åì ìíå ïîòðåáîâàëîñü ïåðåâîäèòü åå íà àíãëèéñêèé ÿçûê, íî ÿ íå ìîãëà èíà÷å.
Êàñûäà î áåññèëèè Îëåãà Ëàäûæåíñêîãî.
* * *
I have unlearnt how to polish up beits. Dear Lord, mercy on me or put to death! –
Mazers are emptied, and verses long chant. Fair I pay.
Lived best I could, and would not have done better. Yes, yes I know it’s all fine, nasal, faintly;
Know that the many are louder and rater!.. I – cannot let.
Upwards the mountains I fly – mountains crumble; want it all proud – it appears not prideful;
Syllable ‚love‘ – stags like a saber at guzzle... That I don’t choose.
Minutes we render, we render in pieces, up in the sky pay with sanguineous spheres, —
I am not; hear me?! Ain’t, am not there… I bawl in vain.
Deep in the throat gurgles impotent stannic. Cold, it is. Blasts are divided by gavel,
slowly I drag penitential attic to bestow Jack Ketch.
Heart raced as mare of boundless steppe; weeping leaf fall, chanting springtide, I beg thou –
Whert dost thou now?! Thither the candle is cut.
Roaming the world like the unbodied shades, plodding through blood we have slopped and have shed,
Life, oh, my life, – what a blasphemous rant! Anon, I whist.