Птица

Птица

Нямам вече нито искрица
от молитвения захлас.
И над мен заплашителна птица
с огнен поглед съзирам аз.

Чувам сдържания й ропот
като звън цимбален е той,
като пагубен морски рокот
от гръмлив, побелял прибой.

Ето — виждам — нокти-стомана
висват в синкава светлина,
като пръски от мръсна пяна,
озарени от зла луна.

Аз се плаша. Не я разбирам.
Не съм младият Ганимед,
който броди с изящна лира
под Олимп, за да бъде взет.

Ако с гълъб такъв ме вика
Бог и дава така сигнал,
то защо не прилича никак
тази птица на гълъб бял?

Другие переводы:


А вот еще:

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....

Recollection

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, / ...