 |
новости | Пресс-рум | Медиа | Пластинки | Конференц-зал | Магазин | Конго-клуб | Контакты |  |
 | ||
| | |
 |
 |
 |
Переклади та адаптаціїWater (Вода)I.Your house number and the colour of this sea – alike I would’ve come to you, a-riding, but my bike Isn’t invented yet, built, or the road laid The road to you, making misfortunes - great. Breath of this sea is like the lightest eyelash touch, Its darkness - like your hallway. Much Is not a lot. Me not like I. Then - not like right away. It’s just another little tragedy of just another day. II. I’m sitting on the seashore, cool-dandy, looking smitten How could one tell my trump’s already beaten? One of these days I’ll take to hills, Will mark a question with footsteps, lie still: Once upon’time there was… Didn’t do service, tried be smart. Went up just once. The puzzle’s broken, drawing - torn apart With my own hands. Pulled up the anchors, got under way. It’s just another little tragedy of just another day. 14 III. Still, every fairytale to a happy ending makes: All live till death us part. For breakfast – milk with flakes, For dinner – soap with “will you marry me?” Boy, girl, with or without, all simple like a one-two-three. That day I left the sea, cool-dandy, all relaxed. The past had long since had me taxed. Unless a bike’s invented, no road gets laid. Misfortunes, hanging on a nail, stay great. переклад Катерини Хінкулової |
|
|||||||||||||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
    |
