Стихотворение американского поэта Генри Уодсворт Лонгфелло (1807 – 1882) «Предостережение» на английском и русском языках. The Warning Beware! The Israelite of old, who tore The lion in his path,—when, poor and blind, He saw the blessed light of heaven no more, Shorn of his noble strength and forced to grind In prison, and at last led forth to be A pander to Philistine revelry,— Upon the pillars of the temple laid His desperate hands, and in its overthrow Destroyed himself, and with him those who made A cruel mockery of his sightless woe; The poor, blind Slave, the scoff and … Читать далее →

Four by the Clock Four by the clock! and yet not day; But the great world rolls and wheels away, With its cities on land, and its ships at sea, Into the dawn that is to be! Only the lamp in the anchored bark Sends its glimmer across the dark, And the heavy breathing of the sea Is the only sound that comes to me. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882) Четыре часа утра Четвертый час… Во тьме ночной Летит в пространство шар земной. Несет он земли и моря Туда, где встретит их заря. И лишь фонарь на корабле Мерцает … Читать далее →

Mezzo Cammin Half of my life is gone, and I have left The years slipped from me and have not fulfilled The aspiration of my youth, to build Some tower of song with lofty parapet. Not indolence, nor pleasure, nor the fret Of restless passions that would not be stilled, But sorrow and a care that almost killed, Kept me from what I may accomplish yet; Though half-way up the hill, I see the Past Lying beneath me with its sounds and sights,- A city in the twilight dim and vast, With smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights,- And … Читать далее →

* * * The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain. And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. Come, read to me some poem, Some simple and heartfelt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And banish the thoughts of day. … Читать далее →