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dersin's Journal

Name:
dersin
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  • dersin@livejournal.com
Une Americaine à Paris

The limits of my language are the limits of my world.
Ludwig Wittgenstein

Не понимая ничего,
Читает "Фауста" в вагоне
И сожалеет, отчего
Людовик больше не на троне.
О. Мандельштам "Американка"

A Bradypus, or Sloth, am I,
I live a life of ease
Contented not to do or die,
But idle as I please
I have three toes on either foot, Or half a doz. on both
With leaves and fruits, and shoots to eat,
How sweet to be a Sloth

The world is such a cheerful place
When viewed from upside-down;
It makes a rise of every fall,
A smile of every frown;
I watch the fleeting flutter by
Of butterfly or moth
And think of all the things I'd try
If I were not a Sloth.

I could climb the very highest Himalayas,
Be among the greatest ever tennis players,
Win at chess or marry a Princess or
Study hard and be an eminent professor.
I could be a millionaire, play the clarinet,
Travel everywhere,
Learn to cook, catch a crook,
Win a war then write a book about it.
I could paint a Mona Lisa,
I could be another Caesar.
Compose an oratorio that was sublime.
The door's not shut on my genius but
I just don't have the time!

For days and days among the trees
I sleep and dream and doze
Just gently swaying in the breeze
Suspended by my toes
While eager beavers overhead
Rush through the undergrowth
I watch the clouds beneath my feet;
How sweet to be a Sloth.
Michael Flanders & Donald Swann


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