Читать книгу In Praise of Poetry - Ольга Седакова - Страница 60
Оглавление3. A SHEPHERD PLAYS
In a heraldic garden small
vines begin to bloom.
“Here we come!”
from a window they call,
and fourteen merry goat kids
leap over a flute.
Yes, they leap over a flute,
or they bound over a pipe,
no animals more charming
has anyone ever seen.
The Lord stinted the rest.
Their fur is the best,
as bold as a youthful abyss—
looking, breathing and stirring,
filling the heart with bliss.
Yet in every living man
the heart is dark and poor,
he is a cripple all inside:
come what may—who cares,
he will not sit down with us
dressed in proper clothes
to serve the blooming vines
to his merry goat kids.
Just as the Lord bids.
