В сентябре т.г. Вика Виктория опубликовала
два стихотворения своего сына, написанные
на английском языке, и попросила сделать их перевод.
Чтобы стихи не растворились в пространстве-времени, решился
на публикацию своего скромного труда.

The Nightmare

In the realm of the nightmare,
Where the black water flows,
In the realm of the nightmare,
Where no one dares to go.

I myself have been there once,
Which I highly regret,
In this land roams the nightmare,
The biggest of all threats.

I was spotted, pursuit began,
I ran as fast as lightning,
It closes off all the holes in the sky,
There's never any lighting.

All was dark, I tripped and fell,
It came up to me afloat,
I grabbed a stick as sharp as a spear,
And shoved it down its throat.

I took a step back as it withered away,
And disappeared into thin air,
My heart was racing, I couldn't believe it,
I just saved the day!


* * *

I was once as large as a cataract
And as happy as could be.
I was once as fast as a torrent
With all the water I could need

I set off on a scavenge,
I wanted more and more.
I was once as large as a cataract
But that was all before.

I kept on going, I wouldn't turn back
Not if it meant defeat,
But after what I saw that night,
I knew I had to retreat

Before me;  a huge rock of blazing inferno and ember
I cried, - "I will not be killed,"
I was once as large as a cataract,
But as thoughtless as a rill.

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