Kuokkala
B
Benedikt Livshits
0
Altın Yaprak
Roses in silken bouillon:
Opening onto the azure silk
A line of cabins on a yellow bed -
Shells of Aphrodite.
Who wouldn't feel the heat,
Or drink golden grog,
If the bulldog of tango
Were to spray its orange spit?
A lily-white Anglosaxon
with a straw-hat raquet catches
A blot-turned-comet -
A dog's dance! Blot tennis!
Seething foam, pods of boats
Snaking sunny rapiers -
And a swollen satyr
Points his kodak at the water.
Only you with a childish smile,
Standing in the hot stern,
Search for the fan of Sestroretsk
In the pale bronze smoke.
Bu metin şairin özgün dilinde (Rusça) değil, bir çeviridir.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş