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"Love's Labour's Lost", "The Taming of the Shrew", "Othello", "Hamlet", "Cymbeline", "Twelfth Night"... Back in the day I all have passed them through as people pass through suffering and plight. My English was as weak as spot I had for William's beard, for the ruthlessness of texts to me. At first it was a fad, a newbie's curiosity, I guess. Over the time the poison of your ink has drugged my blood and turned my soul black. Then I'm afraid that even on the brink of death I will repeat: "Blow, wind! come, wrack!"* You are to blame, the Mage, that every night I must beware of the itch to write. * Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5, Page 3. * См. перевод в комментарии 1. |
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