Читать книгу In Praise of Poetry - Ольга Седакова - Страница 11

1. OFFENSE

What are you doing, spiteful offense?

I fall asleep, but you do not,

I awaken, and you are already up,

staring at me, like a fortune-teller.

Can you say who offended me?

No, not one—only God, all-powerful.

He permits offense to some,

but holds it back from others.

Or maybe life failed to love me?

No, untrue, life feels pity and love,

it keeps me safe in a secret place

and will fetch me when it wants

to look at me with a matchless gaze.

What are you doing, spiteful offense,

Sitting before me, like a fortune-teller?

Will you say that I live badly, that

I offend the sickly and the sufferers?