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Moi et Vous

Я и Вы

Oh! nos mondes ne sont pas les mêmes,
Je viens d'un pays différent,
Ce n'est point la guitare que j'aime,
Mais les bois sauvages stridents.

Au-delà des salles et salons,
Robes et vestes sombres et sages,
Moi, je lis mes poèmes aux dragons,
Aux torrents, aux cascades, aux nuages.

J'aime en arabe des déserts
Qui vers l'eau vivifiante se jette,
Et non en chevalier qui espère
En les étoiles que ses yeux reflètent.

Et c'est point dans mon lit que je trépasse,
En présence de médecin et notaire,
Mais au fond d'une terrible crevasse,
Tout noyée dans le dense lierre.

Pour monter non avec d'autres chrétiens
Aux bons cieux ordonnés et droits
Mais entendre brigand, publicain
Et pécheresse crier : «Lève-toi!»

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The games

Council's kind, on a bloody arena / for the third day the games are not over, / and completely got crazy hyenas, / breathe with ancient spite anacondas. / / And the elephants, bears and tigers / drunk of blood, battlers ready for sparrings, / bull is strong and experienced fighter - /...

My Thoughts

Why did they come to me my thoughts together? / Like thieves at night in gloomy dusk of suburbs, / Like kites they grim and sinister, they whether / are here for the vengeance fierce and savage? / / The hope has left, the dreams have fleed forever, / My eyes have opened in a great excit...

In the skies

Days have flashed in the golden inflame, / And she-bear was fleeing at night, / Overtake her, prince, overtake, / Lasso her, to the saddle her try. / / Lasso her, to the saddle her try / To strap, in the blue tower at home / Point out at she-bear-night / To your giant Herculean dog....


Out at sea, at noon, / sparks dance and the sun glows, / and the bird that's flown too far / sobs with speechless eyes. / / The green sea lured her out, / covered her eyes with mist, / and now she must fly and fly / to the end, high over the silent sea. / / Whimsical whirlwinds...

The Rat

The icon candle flickers, small, / the half-dark nursery is horribly quiet. / The frightened child / hides in the pink lace bed. / / What's that? The house spirit coughing? / He lives there, he's little, he's bald... / Agh! A vicious rat creeps slowly / from behind the wardrobe. / ...

The Choice

He who builds the tower will fall. / He will fall straight down, terribly, / and at the deep bottom of the world's well / he will curse himself for his madness. / / He who pulls the tower down will be crushed, / flattened by stone shards; / and left to lie there, by All-Seeing God, / ...