449
Погибла я за красоту,
Лежу в сырой темнице.
Вдруг некто, пав за правоту,
В соседней лег гробнице.
Спросил он робко: – Вас за что?
– За красоту могила!
– Мы жизнь отдали за одно,
И в правде – наша сила!
С тех пор болтали мы без сна
Об истинах избитых,
Пока не скрыл мох имена
На погребальных плитах.
449
I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –
He questioned softly why I failed?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themselves are One –
We Brethren, are”, He said –
And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –
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