перевод любимой Лины Костенко

Л?на Костенко ( ? я не я, ? ти мен? не ти)

It’s not myself; we’re not the same at all.
I’m at my home but where I used to be?
Somewhere the night is playing on the soul,
The wolf is singing madness melody.
His voice is bare and poor like faded wheat -
That frozen humble kingdom is my home.
This wolf is howling, and the darkest street
Is smiling in the ruthless winter storm.
My dear wolf, just sing me something more.
The subtle wind won’t spare neither you.
But you will come with sadness and with cold,
And catch some fish and stars in darkly-blue.
My dear wolf, just lie front of the door.
And tell me all your harms and their reasons.
Please, put unfaith away and tell me more.
All wolfs can cry, and I can sit and listen.
Please, have a warm, my dear evening guest.
There’s nothing wrong, it’s not a fairy fable.
And I will wait until you have a rest,
Until the night will leave its veil and sable.

While sun is mad and shining on the top,
I’ll write a fairy tale with silky headline.
While loony blizzard doesn’t want to stop
The wisest wolf is sleeping on my hemline.