M. Y. Lermontov Она не гордой красотой...

She isn't with honourable beauty

Attracting vulnerable youngsters.

She doesn't have the tail
Of breathless, speechless fans.

Her stature isn't a goddess stature.

Her breasts are not a standing wave.

Nobody's recognizing her a sacred,

To fall and worship from the dirt.

Oh, yet her moves, her lines,

Her speeches and her smiles -

That's life indeed and inspiration.

Miraculously simple all she does.

But voice her penetrates the soul

And memories of better days.

And heart in love with her and suffers,

Almost ashamed of past
Not perfect moves of love.
Translated by Vladimir Moskovchenko

Метки: Lermontov, гордой, красотой