Резултати претраге

Children's portraits

I love in spring, when strengthened heat,
Had enough fun and tired, hurrying to slow its paces,
Our trimmed boulevard, so clean and neat,
On the streets children with cheerful and trusting faces,
Their ringing laughter, their games, and sometimes
Their brisk quarrels in the cute game of sleeping lions.
 
1
 
Her green and broken treasured watering can
With lazy grace laying it on a bench in the garden
She lowered her legs, with a torn stocking on one knee,
Skinny and weak, sick little feet,
She sat down trustingly on the bench next to me
She was like lily, very quiet little poppet.
Wet eyelashes, closed slightly eyes
Healthy fatigue caused blush on tiny cheeks
She is like swallow, ready to take off and fly
All of her graceful unsleeping mischief.
 
2
 
Two little boys, both with protruding ears
In tight sailor shirts, skinny and full of valour,
With toy shovels they scoop the sand “Oh, dear”
And with a squeal they pour into each other's collars.
Always warlike, pugnacious and perky, doesn’t listen,
Laughing for a long time over every little shamble,
With eyes as sharp and wicked as a candle,
Such is Borisan'ka. Respectfully submissive,
Another, Voloden'ka, with dirty stains and so alive,
A funny munchkin with a big head for body size.
Their German nanny with horror discarding Marlit,
Shouts angrily- “I’ll give you poems to read!”
But Borya laughs wildly: 'ha-ha-ha', in reply.
“German poetry will not frighten me!”
And to his brother zealously echoing an octave higher.
Voloden’ka squeaks gloatingly 'hee hee hee'
 
3
 
In small steps, uneven, like a spiral,
Humpbacked three-year-old Anusya runs, so brave.
Seeing her, I will involuntarily turn away,
And I feel sorry for her, with a bitter pain, dull.
Her eyes are two sharp and fearful lights