By Lina Kostenko
And you has come, my sadness and my Muse
Again: don’t be afraid – I shan’t fall hands to down.
The autumn’s floating over the world, as a medusa,
And wet leaves all are scattered around.
And you’re – in sandals – not worth to that weather,
Your raincoat – on shoulder as a bow.
How you were going! .. from distance there,
Alone loneliness in night!
Where had you been? In Cosmos, or in Sparta?
What aeons were you shining far?
How do you find on earth – without any sign –
A poet, who’s real poet by luck?
Their destiny you govern – not the poems,
Their brows are so grand in light.
There are the poets much better, joyful…
Thank you, that you selected me that time.
– –
Under translation from ukranian into russian
by Svetlana Gruzdeva
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