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[personal profile] mr_stapleton






Ворон чует, как у него едет крыша,
И каждое перо становится окаменевшим убийством.

Кто это всё убил?
Живущих мертвецов, все нервы до корней, всю кровь его,
Пока он весь не почернел?

Как улететь ему от собственного оперенья?
И почему все перья поселились вдруг на нём?

Он что - архив их обвинений?
Их призрачная цель, тоска о мести?
Их непрощённый пленник?

Ему прощенья нет.

Его тюрьма - земля. Одетый в приговор,
Пытаясь вспомнить все свои злодейства,

Он тяжело летит.


Ted Hughes. Crow's Nerve Fails

Crow, feeling his brain slip,
Finds his every feather the fossil of a murder.

Who murdered all these?
These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood
Till he is visibly black?

How can he fly from his feathers?
And why have they homed on him?

Is he the archive of their accusations?
Or their ghostly purpose, their pining vengeance?
Or their unforgiven prisoner?

He cannot be forgiven.

His prison is the earth. Clothed in his conviction,
Trying to remember his crimes

Heavily he flies.
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