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Thomas Hardy «The Phantom Horsewoman»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение английского поэта Томаса Харди (1840-1928) «Всадница-призрак» на английском языке и в двух переводах на русский язык. The Phantom Horsewoman Queer are the ways of a man I know: He comes and stands In a careworn craze, And looks at the sands And in the seaward haze With moveless hands And face and gaze, Then turns to go… And what does he see when he gazes so? They say he sees as an instant thing More clear than today, A sweet soft scene That once was in play By that briny green; Yes, notes alway Warm, real, and keen, What … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “A Dutch Picture”

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

A Dutch Picture Simon Danz has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers; He has singed the beard of the King of Spain, And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers. In his house by the Maese, with its roof of tiles, And weathercocks flying aloft in air, There are silver tankards of antique styles, Plunder of convent and castle, and piles Of carpets rich and rare. In his tulip-garden there by the town, Overlooking the sluggish stream, With his Moorish cap and dressing-gown, The old sea-captain, hale and brown, Walks in a waking … Читать далее →

Robert Frost «October»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение американского поэта Роберта Фроста (1874 – 1963) «Октябрь» на английском и русском языках. October О hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. О hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far … Читать далее →

Sara Teasdale «There will come soft rains…»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение американской поэтессы Сары Тисдейл «Будут сладкими ливни…» на английском языке и в двух переводах на русский язык. There will come soft rains… There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And … Читать далее →

Edna St. Vincent Millay «Love is Not All»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Love is Not All (Sonnet XXX) Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, Or nagged by want past … Читать далее →

Robert Frost «Into My Own»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение Роберта Ли Фроста «Путь к себе» на английском языке и в трех переводах на русский язык. Into My Own One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto the edge of doom. I should not be withheld but that some day Into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, Or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand. I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not … Читать далее →

Robert Burns «Song Composed In August»

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Song Composed In August I Now westlin winds and slaught’ring guns Bring Autumn’s pleasant weather; The moorcock springs on whirring wings Amang the blooming heather: Now waving grain, wide o’er the plain, Delights the weary farmer; And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, To muse upon my charmer. II The partridge loves the fruitful fells, The plover loves the mountains; The woodcock haunts the lonely dells, The soaring hern the fountains: Thro’ lofty groves the cushat roves, The path of man to shun it; The hazel bush o’erhangs the thrush, The spreading thorn the linnet. III Thus … Читать далее →