❤️ When a bather with heavy braid Emerges from the water, alone in the midday heat, And hides in the shade, then the forest stream Sings something entirely different in its green mirrors. Above the fragile scales of bright-cool waters, The hundred-handed god of streams bends his horns, And only the dragonfly, like the first airplane, Reminds of new times. ❤️ Когда купальщица с тяжелою косой Выходит из воды, одна в полдневном зное, И прячется в тени, тогда ручей лесной В зеленых зер...