Джек вечно что-то корчил из себя.
Работал на железке тридцать лет,
по десять в день – ладони как подошвы.
Женился на крутой, – родили восьмерых;
она ушла из жизни, дети повзрослели,
разъехались, писали очень редко.
Он умер, сидя на скамеечке у дома,
на солнце, говоря с другим таким же, –
без женщин тоже, – и оставленным детьми.
Он умирал с улыбкой на лице – как жил:
Джек вечно что-то корчил из себя.
Текст оригинала:
Carl Sandberg
Jack
JACK was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun.
He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day,
and his hands were tougher than sole leather.
He married a tough woman and they had eight children
and the woman died and the children grew up and
went away and wrote the old man every two years.
He died in the poorhouse sitting on a bench in the sun
telling reminiscences to other old men whose women
were dead and children scattered.
There was joy on his face when he died as there was joy
on his face when he lived--he was a swarthy, swag-
gering son-of-a-gun.