Читать книгу Poems of Baudelaire (Les Fleurs du Mal) - Charles Baudelaire - Страница 16
ОглавлениеGipsies on the Road
| The tribe of seers, last night, began its march With burning eyes, and shouldering its young To whose ferocious appetites it swung The wealth of hanging breasts that nought can parch. The men, their weapons glinting in the rays, Walk by the convoy where their folks are carted, Sweeping the far-off skylines with a gaze Regretful of Chimeras long-departed. Out of his hole the cricket sees them pass And sings the louder. Greener grows the grass Because Cybele loves them, and has made The barren rock to gush, the sands to flower, To greet these travellers, before whose power Familiar futures open realms of shade. |
