Поэт, предприниматель, преподаватель иностранных языков и культур, переводчик. Публикации в периодических изданиях: “45-я параллель”, “Сетевая словесность”, “Новая реальность”, “Русский переплёт”.

Poet, businesswoman, teacher of ferign languages and cultures, translator. Publications in periodicals: “45-ya Parallel”, “Setevaya Slovesnost”, “Novaya Realnost”, “Russkiy Pereplet”.

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Перевод стихотворения  Кассандры «Детство в Донбассе»

CHILDHOOD IN DONBASS

 

Hoary slag heaps rise like pyramids,

Poplar pyramids – across.

See the land reveal itself amidst

Make-believe Egyptian gloss.

When a nightly blackened cupola

Covers sweepingly the world,

Witness wistfully a new fall off

Of a star and say no word.

Myriads of stars dive glittering

Into waters of a pail.

Silence reigns. The dog snorts bitterly

In his nearby kennel-jail.

There in spring we used to pave the way

Through a gully, wearing gums,

Watch snapdragons on a summer day

Tricking poppies over humps.

Heavy showers would bring joy to us,

Our sandcastles rising high,

Over roofs and tower blocks would pass

Bright soap bubbles, rainbow-like.

Single-storeyed wooden houses

Still keep watch of olden times.

Paper planes, like sappy browses,

Grow on azure of the skies.

Fairy apples ripen lusciously.

Scarlet brightening breaks the night.

Boats on rivers echo rushedly

Paper-winged high-level flight.

I can still remember clearly

Open handedness of bents,

Picking kiss-me-quicks and hearing

Cattish colloquies descend

From the slopes of roofs and crowns of trees

To the bed of midnight grass.

In the fringe of sprouting round slag heaps

I recall you, my Donbass.

 

(16 голосов, средний бал: 3,13 из 5)

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