|
|
||
I'd rather not relay on heavy words to weigh the beauty in a proper way. A third of human languages, two-thirds, nay, all of them would never outweigh the heft of weightless beauty on the scale of ruthless time. Eternity will measure a downfall, a moon, а nightingale, a hug, a kiss, a tenderness, a pleasure, an unexpected daybreak. Farewell, my poor weighted love. Abiding time is going to put its deadly spell on every stanza, meter, form and rhyme. But beauty is immeasurable form. When beauty comes I wonder where from. * См. перевод в комментарии 1. |
|