Аннотация: Не знаю, кто и когда из русских поэтов переводил Цветаеву на английский язык. Я решил поэкспериментировать - и вышла какая-то абсолютная шекспировщина. В общем, это не английский язык, но англичане его поймут.
"О сколько их упало в эту бездну..."
How many man brook uping and went in Hell
Forget, forgot, forgot!
Onc'pon a day - and i will brake to nihi:
Another Act of God.
To nihil all, what song and struggle, struggle -
My fight, mu nice of voice,
And green of ise, and very shoot of fingers,
And geld hed, and the nose.
And will be day with ever brad and butter
And forgetting of day,
And will be all, if upon of the Mather
I not exist of yesterday.
I was be changeas ghildrens in the mine
And very quickly bad
I loved a time, when wood in the remaine
And became the woodbad,
The many good mans as comitas free mands
And bell in village some,
Me as so joce and real very womans
Of nice of Eath and on sun.
For troth of quckly being of than down it,
For veritas and play'es
Lock, people! You are still my offten loving
For my nice only Death.