Роберт Ли Фрост (Robert Lee Frost)

On Being Idolized

The wave sucks back and with the last of water 
It wraps a wisp of seaweed round my legs, 
And with the swift rush of its sandy dregs 
So undermines my barefoot stand I totter, 
And did I not take steps would be tipped over 
Like the ideal of some mistaken lover.