Перевод Марка Вингрейва
The war between the city of Mirrors
And city of Shadows
Resulted in a draw,
Yet it seems more is looming,
In fact this very night
Light may bend and be refracted
Against congealing shields
And wound and not go through,
But shift to thou-
Sands of night things
Yousands of shadows
The daring colour of the dark,
Unreflected in its depths.
O, how he’d mirror stroke by stroke,
Striking glinting eyes,
Behold our left-hand leader
Two halves in silvered glass.
But all the lowered mirrors,
Are now draped in tatters,
And sitting in tandem at a table
A blind shadow by itself.
And city of Shadows
Resulted in a draw,
Yet it seems more is looming,
In fact this very night
Light may bend and be refracted
Against congealing shields
And wound and not go through,
But shift to thou-
Sands of night things
Yousands of shadows
The daring colour of the dark,
Unreflected in its depths.
O, how he’d mirror stroke by stroke,
Striking glinting eyes,
Behold our left-hand leader
Two halves in silvered glass.
But all the lowered mirrors,
Are now draped in tatters,
And sitting in tandem at a table
A blind shadow by itself.