Ocean was beholding me by the eyes of God,
Me, who's been exhausted by the anger,
Who's been tormented by hate.
I was gathering my strength again
To cross the sands of misunderstanding.
I should've been much more confident to cope with it.
I should've been... but fallen of despair.
But I'm still not on my knees. So, let it not imagine...
This ocean.
But it was not about to imagine.
It just touched my feet so gently,
And been quivering I broke all
That kept my wounds in casting mould.
I lay evanescing, becoming dust...
As tiny as a grain of sand or drop of water
In boundless ocean. Like I was child and lulled by waters.
And I have seen the Sun is rising over waves
After long and unrelenting dark.
Thereat I've been gathered of sand and water
And then became a bird.
It rained on the sands of desert.
Lovely flowers will grow soon.
Благодарю за поэтический перевод Андрея Зверева. Оригинал стихотворения здесь - http://www.stihi.ru/2017/08/20/1650