смерть
карай
тех, чей грай
как этот; ведь
от них, на мой взгляд
лишь пшиков жди одних
на кой не ведая ляд
пыль древних форм мнят златом, их
счет слогов губит истинный стих.
____________________
Stephen Fry.
Nonet.
death
to those
who compose
such wastes of breath
they have no graces
at least in my poor eyes
they suggest useless traces
of ancient forms more pure and wise
when people start to count, true verse dies.
___________________
And the literal back-translation (in case Author – pray, not Publisher – chances to take a peek):
Death, punish those, whose caw is like this one, for from them, in my view, one can only expect dribbles: [they,] not knowing what the devil for, dust of ancient forms take for gold, their counting of syllables kills true verse.
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