Перевод строфы Игоря Северянина на англ. яз

Igor Severyanin


America. A Cruel apparition.
Your soul’s pushed away. Machine.
You're a fitter on his mission.
Your spirit as a lost one's seen.
Your laborer with all his goodies
Got eyes without higher moodies.
They are for counting his cheques,
None for the Intellectualis Rex.
You cannot be a poet here…
And where are this highway's ends?
What’s the take for fiends & friends?
What truth you tell, just plain and mere?
The puppet place of rampant boon—
They don’t need the sun and moon.