автор: stir

превод:

Arlekino

When in alcoholic spleen,
crumpled down I curse my days,
why keep coming, Arlekin,
with that happy smiling face.

Brother, go back safe and sound
to your master`s loving care.
You know not about the grand
anger, pain and despair.

You know not my foggy paths,
nor the galing winds endured.
You know not that your beloved
quit the theatre for good.

You know not the quiet grief
of the Bresovo white wine.
Arlekino, I won`t yield
nothing of this grief of mine.

Many joys I drowned in thirst...
Above the acclaim of art
I have put a heart in verse.

But have always kept my heart.

Todor Chonov


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Оригиналът