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Aug. 15th, 2025|06:29 pm |
если есть кто неравнодушный, поправьте грамматич.
(если кто Манин, можно и фонетику)
on a wall I was sitting,
over the wall I could be flying,
if I were a balloon of air,
a flying squirrel, a flying bear
(says Manin, never you dare
to rhyme "air" with "bear"!),
if I were someone else.
and the wall could be a wall of gaol,
one of those four designed to jail
in an antique way, separating male from female
poor souls, or monsters, depending on what you sell,
and to whom you sell,
if it was something else.
and it could be a border wall
separating mine from yours (I'd take all,
I'd take you, were you not on the other side,
ah but never you mind),
separating Right from Wrong,
Ordnung from Chaos,
a swan from a song,
you from someone who cares,
if it was something else.
and don't you go leftsplaining me,
I've been left of the left on your left,
and don't you go rightwashing me,
didn't you know that left of the leftmost is right?
and don't you go lukewarming me,
for I know your deeds, you uncle John's meal,
I'd rather be something else.
not much time is left
for my humptying and dumptying,
almost all of the king's horses arrived,
I am sitting on the wall
separating nothing from nothing,
trying to make it into something else,
something else. |
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