1918

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Мчались звезды. В море мылись мысы.
Слепла соль. И слезы высыхали.
Были темны спальни. Мчались мысли,
И прислушивался сфинкс к Сахаре.

Плыли свечи. И казалось, стынет
Кровь колосса. Заплывали губы
Голубой улыбкою пустыни.
В час отлива ночь пошла на убыль.

Море тронул ветерок с Марокко.
Шел самум. Храпел в снегах Архангельск.
Плыли свечи. Черновик "Пророка"
Просыхал, и брезжил день на Ганге.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Stars were racing; waves were washing headlands.
Salt went blind, and tears were slowly drying.
Darkened were the bedrooms; thoughts were racing,
And the Sphinx was listening to the desert.

Candles swam. It seemed that the Colossus'
Blood grew cold; upon his lips was spreading
The blue shadow smile of the Sahara.
With the turning tide the night was waning.

Sea-breeze from Morocco touched the water.
Simooms blew. In snowdrifts snored Archangel.
Candles swam; the rough draft of 'The Prophet'
Slowly dried, and dawn broke on the Ganges

© Boris Pasternak