To you, having to be given rise A century later, as I will cease to breathe — From the subsoil — as to death condemned, I write with the hand:
— Friend! don't look for me! Other fashion! I am not remembered even by old men. — Mouth not to get! — Through leteysky waters I give two hands.
As two fires, your eyes I see, Flaring to me in a grave — in a hell — Tu seeing that a hand doesn't move, Died hundred years ago.
With me in a hand — almost that a dust handful — My verses! — I see: on a wind You look for the house where I was born — or In which I will die.
On counter women — that, live, happy — I am proud as you look, and I catch words: — Concourse samozvanok! All are dead you! It one is live!
I served it as service of the volunteer! I knew all secrets, all warehouse of its rings! Robbers of the dead! These rings Are stolen at it!
Oh, my hundred rings! To me pulls veins, I repent for the first time, That so much I at random gave them — I didn't wait for you!
And it is sad to me still that this evening, The today's — so long there was I following To the sitting-down sun — and towards To you — in hundred years.
I bet that you will throw a damnation To my friends in a haze of graves: — All eulogized! Pink dress Nobody presented!
Who was more unselfish? ! — No, I mercenarily! Times you won't kill — self-interest isn't present to hide, That I at all elicited letters, That to kiss at night.
To tell? — I will tell! Non-existence — convention. You to me now — the most passionate of guests, And you will refuse to a pearl of all mistresses For the sake of that — bones.
Как Вы думаете, сильно пересекаются эти стихи у Марины и у Джеймса? :)
Re: :)
To you, having to be given rise
A century later, as I will cease to breathe —
From the subsoil — as to death condemned,
I write with the hand:
— Friend! don't look for me! Other fashion!
I am not remembered even by old men.
— Mouth not to get! — Through leteysky waters
I give two hands.
As two fires, your eyes I see,
Flaring to me in a grave — in a hell —
Tu seeing that a hand doesn't move,
Died hundred years ago.
With me in a hand — almost that a dust handful —
My verses! — I see: on a wind
You look for the house where I was born — or
In which I will die.
On counter women — that, live, happy —
I am proud as you look, and I catch words:
— Concourse samozvanok! All are dead you!
It one is live!
I served it as service of the volunteer!
I knew all secrets, all warehouse of its rings!
Robbers of the dead! These rings
Are stolen at it!
Oh, my hundred rings! To me pulls veins,
I repent for the first time,
That so much I at random gave them —
I didn't wait for you!
And it is sad to me still that this evening,
The today's — so long there was I following
To the sitting-down sun — and towards
To you — in hundred years.
I bet that you will throw a damnation
To my friends in a haze of graves:
— All eulogized! Pink dress
Nobody presented!
Who was more unselfish? ! — No, I mercenarily!
Times you won't kill — self-interest isn't present to hide,
That I at all elicited letters,
That to kiss at night.
To tell? — I will tell! Non-existence — convention.
You to me now — the most passionate of guests,
And you will refuse to a pearl of all mistresses
For the sake of that — bones.
Как Вы думаете, сильно пересекаются эти стихи у Марины и у Джеймса? :)