Из Вильяма Блейка

FROM WILLIAM BLAKE

A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, "I’ve a pretty rose tree,"
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.

Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.

   ROZA

   – Davay v moey leubimoy pozie!
(Legla spinoy na taburet,
s uma s...) A vdrug raskagiut Rozie?
   – Net, krasota. Segodnia – net.
   ... Da, gizne – mucitelenaia sckola.
Cto – Roza? V noce togo-ge dnia
shipami revnosti kolola
i toleko mucila menia.

© Alt.ru-21


Рецензии
FROM ROBERT FROST

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

DUST OF SNOW

Strechnёt vorona
snegènuiu pòile
s boligolova
na bole golovy —
i s serdca slovno
spadaet tene,
i koncen slavno
prokleatoiy dene.

© Alt.ru-21

Иманя Грек   13.12.2021 06:25     Заявить о нарушении