***
Он ел и пил изящный слог,
И дух его крепчал;
А то, что беден и убог,
Совсем не замечал.
Он танцевал средь серых дней
На крылышках страниц
Бессмертных книг. Свободен дух,
Не знающий границ!
***
He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust,
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!