РОБЕРТ ФРОСТ. Пересечение

(Перевод: Роман Дин)
С холма спустившись вдоль ограды, я
Прильнул к калитке, выверив обзор, –
А повернувшись (мой прикован взор!),
Увидел, как ты мне навстречу шла.
Большой и малый – будто два следа
В пыли смешались, вычертив узор:
Не двое, но и не один – и спор,
Где дробью их разделит от зонта
Твой выпад, – твердой разрешен рукой.
И что-то в тех следах тебя смешило,
Пока вели мы разговор простой.
(О, без обид – все было очень мило!)
А позже, путь продолжили мы свой:
Ты вверх пошла, я – вниз, по тропке той.
by ROBERT FROST, 1874 - 1963
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
Something down there to smile at in the dust.
(Oh, it was without prejudice to me!)
Afterward I went past what you had passed
Before we met, and you what I had passed.