Still craving heavily for hedonism in armor
Завершил, что начал тут --
http://lj.rossia.org/users/harllatham/543547.html

Insomnia. Homer. The rows of stretched sails.
The catalogue of ships I've read up to mesotes:
The lengthy brood of cranes, the train towards acrotes,
Which long ago rose up above the land of Hellas.

It’s like a wedge of cranes towards the distant shores –
Kings' crowns to foam alike, from which once born was Venus.
Where are you sailing to? If not Our Dame of Paris*,
What Troy would be to you, Achaean men of war?

Marina, Ariman -- they're being moved by amor.
Whom shall I listen to? Yet silent Homer is,
And mare tenebrarum cares for caress,
Still craving heavily for hedonism in armor
__________
*) Paris ~ penis