Lighter than a ray of Sunlight,
Frailer than the lavender fragrance
Weightless like a string of spiders
Web, a Moth’s Trace on the Verandah’s
Window glasses.
Probably a Poor thing trembled
Trying to break through from the Darkness.
It was stifling, it was uptight
Outside, behind the Windows in the Middle
Of the summer night.
The Wood breathed with the Gloomy Languor,
Having merged with th’ Sky and the Ground.
Smelling spicy Rotten Needles,
Waves from His wings being a Sole fresh
Breeze around.
Just at daybreak in the Morning
Rose Thick Vapours from the River.
They have found the Moth Fallen
On the green bedspread Damp
Sleeping Dead.
August 30, 2012
Kiev
Авторский перевод
Оригинал: http://www.stihi.ru/2012/08/13/6347
The Moth
© Copyright: Ирина Гончарова, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №212090101514
Свидетельство о публикации №212090101514
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