mbla (mbla) wrote,
mbla
mbla

не пой, красавица, при мне


Theodore Roethke

There was a Serpent who had to sing.
There was. There was.
He simply gave up Serpenting.
Because. Because.

He didn't like his Kind of Life;
He couldn't find a proper Wife;
He was a Serpent with a soul;
He got no Pleasure down his Hole.
And so, of course, he had to Sing,
And Sing he did like Anything!
The Birds, they were, they were Astounded;
And various Measures Propounded
To stop the Serpent's Awful Racket;
They bought a Drum. He wouldn't Whack it.
They sent, - you always send, - to Cuba
And got a Most Commodious Tuba;
They got a Horn, they got a Flute,
But nothing would suit.
He said, "Look, Birds, all this is futile:
I do not like to Bang or Tootle".
And then he cut loose with a Horrible Note
That practically split the Top of his Throat.
"You see", he said, with a Serpent's Leer,
"I'm Serious about my Singing Career!"
And the Woods Resounded with many a Shriek
As the Birds flew off to the End of Next Week.
Tags: Рётке, стихи
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 13 comments