Öèòàòà ñîîáùåíèÿ Damon_Starlight *(?)* Meditation

And then as always there're roses,
Roses of young boys,
Rampant flowers unto wild weeds,
But infinitely sweet,
Though stabbing upwards like blades
Out of the sheathes of their clothes,
Too whole
For these young springs of life,
Strident perfumes
Rising from them left and right,
And roses of them old,
When they're ugly fowls,
Thick rich pluckable,
Devourable sacks of bones and blood
And shabby plumage,
Battering themselves on old walls,
Their friable roses coated with
Filthy mortal poison.

(c) Damon Starlight (To be continued, maybe, soon...)
È çàòåì êàê âñåãäà åñòü ðîçû,
Ðîçû ìàëåíüêèõ ìàëü÷èêîâ,
Íåîáóçäàííûå öâåòû ê äèêèì ñîðíÿêàì,
Íî áåñêîíå÷íî ñëàäêèé,
Õîòÿ íàíîñÿ óäàð ââåðõ êàê ëåçâèÿ
Èç âêëàäûâàíèÿ â íîæíû èõ îäåæäû,
Ñëèøêîì öåëûé
 òå÷åíèå ýòèõ ìîëîäûõ ïðóæèí æèçíè,
Ñêðèïó÷èå äóõè
Ïîâûøåíèå îò íèõ ëåâûé è ïðàâûé,
È ðîçû èõ ñòàðûé,
Êîãäà îíè - óæàñíûå äîìàøíèå ïòèöû,
Òîëñòûå pluckable áîãàòûå,
Ìåøêè Äåâóðýéáëà êîñòåé è êðîâè
È ïîòåðòîå îïåðåíèå,
Óäàðû ñåáÿ íà ñòàðûõ ñòåíàõ,
Èõ ðûõëûå ðîçû, ïîêðûòûå
Ãðÿçíûé ñìåðòíûé ÿä.

(c) Damon Starlight (×òîáû áûòü ïðîäîëæåííûì, âîçìîæíî, ñêîðî..