• Язык:
    Болгарский (Български)


Сон. Утренняя болтовня

(утринна разговорка)

Днес Ви виждам тъй красива,
що видяхте в своя сън?
— Бряг, и сливи,
и луна навън. —

Още? Още? Там на склона
кой пристигна в късен час?
— Дездемона бе
и аз.

Гледате ме тъй несмело:
Кой бе скрит зад тези сливи?
— Бе Отело —

Беше ли за вас достоен?
Като лунен лъч ли бе?
— Да, като воин
и поет.

Имаше ли в песента му
неоткрита красота?
— Да, в пустиня
и в мечта.

И любовния му ромон
вие слушахте в захлас?
— Плака само Дездемона,
но не — аз.

Другие переводы:

А вот еще:

A dream

I woke up and moaned with a shudder, / My nightmare haunts me again: / You were still in love with another, / And he caused you anguish and pain. / / I escaped my house in the darkness - / Thus a killer runs from a block, / Watched and mocked by shadowy lanterns - / Hungry wild beas...

You will recall me

You will recall me - likely, more than once, / And you'll recall my world, both strange and dreamy, / The funny world where songs and fires dance, / And yet - the only one that's not deceiving. / / It could have been your chosen world as well. / Perhaps it was too much for you, too litt...

The Cross

Card after card lied to me, lied and lied, / and even wine no longer helped. / Cold March stars hung pale, / anxious, outside the window. / / Coldly mad, in crazy passion, / I felt the game was dream. / "I bet everything in the bank, all of it!" I shouted. / And I lost. / / I l...


They have crowded around me - why? - like thieves / in the dark, in the quiet suburban dark. / Like sinister hawks, like sullen hawks, / they have come for some cruel vengeance. / / Hope left. Dream ran. / Anxiety pried open my eyes / and as though on a ghostly slate / I read my wor...

A Ballad

Lucifer my friend gave me five horses / and one gold ruby ring, / for me to go down, down into the ground, / for me to see the sky's young face. / / My horses beat their hooves, snorted, begged / to gallop like birds all over the earth, / and I believed the sun's light burned for me, ...

The Turkey

In the morning of my unsure memory / I recall a many-coloured meadow, / where ruled a haughty / turkey, adored by me. / / He was malicious and free, / his beak crimson as fire / and he was sharply scornful / of my four years. / / Neither chocolate, nor caramels, / nor pineapp...