A widow kept a favourite cat,At first a gentle creature;But when he was grown sleek and fat,With many a mouse, and many a rat,Ye soon disclosed his nature.The fox and he were friends of old,Nor could they now be parted;They nightly slunk to rob the fold,Devoured the lambs, the fleeces sold,And puss grew lion-hearted.He scratched her maid, he stole the cream,He tore her best laced pinner;Nor Chanticleer upon the beam,Nor chick, nor duckling 'scapes, when GrimInvites the fox to dinner.The dame full wisely did decree,For fear he should dispatch more,That the false wretch should worried be:But in a saucy manner heThus speeched it like a Lechmere.'Must I, against all right and law,Like pole-cat vile be treated?I! who so long with tooth and clawHave kept domestic mice in awe,And foreign foes defeated!'Your golden pippins, and your pies,How oft have I defended?'Tis true, the pinner which you prizeI tore in frolic; to your eyesI never harm intended.'I am a cat of honor – ' 'Stay'Quoth she, 'no longer parley;Whate'er you did in battle slay,By law of arms become your prey,I hope you won it fairly.'Of this, we'll grant you stand acquit,But not of your outrages:'Tell me, perfidious! was it fitTo make my cream a perquisite,And steal to mend your wages!'So flagrant is thy insolenceSo vile thy breach of trust is;That longer with thee to dispense,Were want of power, or want of sense:Here, Towser! – Do him justice.'
Артем АРИНУШКИН
1
Я теряю себя на просторах пустых проспектов,Распадаюсь частицами вдоль молодых бульваров.Кто я в городе этом? Просто – безликий некто,Что отдал свое сердце, вместе с душой задаром.Мой потерянный дух отражается в тех витринах, Где когда-то сиял свет излюбленной мной свободы.Я остался собой, лишь на мастеровых картинах,Словно Дориан Грей, из Адониса став уродом.Я исчезну совсем, на огромных твоих просторах,Милый отрок Петра, обернувшись простым закатом.Кем я был здесь всегда? Лишь придуманным кем-то вздором,А куда я уйду? Да туда, куда все когда-то...