Діалоги в Леополісі
He: The Rosy Verse
What a feast of white
and rosy tones!
— Émile Zola, To Ninon
Late Autumn eve.
This cold October.
A thin leather jacket on her fragile body.
Upon the chain — the Virgin’s pendant.
The deep enchantment of her eyes, a spell.
Her lips are Rosy,
Her feelings and her mood.
The flowers to choose: white or rose-coloured.
One bouquet alone bears the fairy-tale hue —
The very one I shall give her.
My heart is blazing,
My soul aflame.
It is happiness: to be beside her.
And when her gentle steps grow faint,
I freeze within the thickness of the dark.
I’m poor with prose:
Words fall short.
How can I explain my stance toward her?
It is not mere infatuation — I am certain.
Nor is it worship of a deity.
Then what is this
Within my heart?
A fevered illness seizes my soul.
When I behold her, I will softly say:
“Forgive me, girl, for loving you...”
Відредаговано: 18.04.2026
Рекомендації книг, Промокоди і Знижки
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