В. БРЮСОВ "Она любила строй беспечный"/Valeriy Bryusov
Valeriy Bryusov "She loved her musing’s volatile array..."
Narration And Images: Mila Gee
Music: "Ghostpocalypse - 8 Epilog" by Kevin Macleod Available under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license.
Scroll for my English adaptation of the poem:
She loved her musing’s volatile array,
Her dreams that took her to the far off land.
She loved flowers, snowflakes, the Milky Way;
She loved her sadness: causeless and unplanned.
Then she loved to linger by the window,
Like a young bride on a dark wintry night.
Where, abandoned by her will, her voice low,
Her usual anthem “I’m Alone” she’d recite.
She waited for someone who would conform
To the mad brave fair man inside her mind.
Who’d pour his life into a single storm
of passion, leaving not a drop behind.
But her fate was strangely unforgiving,
It neither duped her nor fulfilled her dream.
He was neither cold nor was he burning,
He loved her and not loved her, so it seemed.
His moderately fiery caresses,
His carefully measured, well thought through speech;
His face – a visage a mask possesses,
Could only fan her but could never scorch.
Aspiring to the wild and boundless space,
She wanted wings; fate had not abided.
Instead he only brought her tenderness,
From then on it all had been decided.
Translation: Mila Gee
Видео В. БРЮСОВ "Она любила строй беспечный"/Valeriy Bryusov канала Mila Gee Reads Poetry
Narration And Images: Mila Gee
Music: "Ghostpocalypse - 8 Epilog" by Kevin Macleod Available under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license.
Scroll for my English adaptation of the poem:
She loved her musing’s volatile array,
Her dreams that took her to the far off land.
She loved flowers, snowflakes, the Milky Way;
She loved her sadness: causeless and unplanned.
Then she loved to linger by the window,
Like a young bride on a dark wintry night.
Where, abandoned by her will, her voice low,
Her usual anthem “I’m Alone” she’d recite.
She waited for someone who would conform
To the mad brave fair man inside her mind.
Who’d pour his life into a single storm
of passion, leaving not a drop behind.
But her fate was strangely unforgiving,
It neither duped her nor fulfilled her dream.
He was neither cold nor was he burning,
He loved her and not loved her, so it seemed.
His moderately fiery caresses,
His carefully measured, well thought through speech;
His face – a visage a mask possesses,
Could only fan her but could never scorch.
Aspiring to the wild and boundless space,
She wanted wings; fate had not abided.
Instead he only brought her tenderness,
From then on it all had been decided.
Translation: Mila Gee
Видео В. БРЮСОВ "Она любила строй беспечный"/Valeriy Bryusov канала Mila Gee Reads Poetry
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