Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok (28 November 1880 – 7 August 1921 / Saint Petersburg)
A small circus is amazing;
It’s for kids who are merry and bright;
There a girl and a boy're gazing
At the ladies, kings, and droll sprites.
… And that terrible music cries over our lot,
Despondently howls the bow…
The scary sprite has captured a tiny tot,
With cranberry juice dripping down.
- The boy -
He'll be rescued from a new burst of anger
With a wave of a delicate hand.
There – lights coming on,
See their growing reflection?
See the smoke? See the torch on the stand?
This must be the royal procession.
- The girl -
Come now, why all this teasing talk?
This is the devil's escort…
In the daylight the queen goes out for a walk,
Head to toe with rosebuds decorated.
And escort of knights hold the train of her frock
And jingle their swords, all excited.
Suddenly the clown twists in the lights
Screaming, «Please help me! Please help!
I am bleeding red cranberry juice!
I have bandages made of rags!
I have a paper helmet on my head!
I’ve a wooden sword in my hand!»
Here both the girl and the boy broke into tears,
And the merry street circus shut its doors.
Comments about this poem (Street Circus by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok )
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