Robert Burns

Robert Burns «Here’s To Thy Health»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Here’s To Thy Health Here’s to thy health, my bonie lass, Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-door, To tell thee that I lo’e thee. O dinna think, my pretty pink, But I can live without thee: I vow and swear I dinna care, How lang ye look about ye. Thou’rt aye sae free informing me, Thou hast nae mind to marry; I’ll be as free informing thee, Nae time hae I to tarry: I ken thy frien’s try ilka means Frae wedlock to delay thee; Depending on some higher chance, But fortune … Читать далее →

Robert Burns «A red red Rose»

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A red red Rose О my Luve’s like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; 0 my Luve’s like the melodie That’S’ sweetly play’d in tune.— As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will love thee still, my Dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.— Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: 1 will love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o’ life shall run.— And fare thee weel, my only Luve! And fare thee weel, a while! And I will … Читать далее →

Robert Burns «The Auld Farmer’s New-Year-Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare, Maggie»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение шотландского поэта Роберта Бернса «Утренний привет старого фермера его старой лошади Мэгги» на английском языке и в трёх переводах на русский язык. The Auld Farmer’s New-Year-Morning Salutation To His Auld Mare, Maggie A Guid New-year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld baggie: Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ knaggie, I’ve seen the day Thou could hae gaen like ony staggie, Out-owre the lay. Tho’ now thou’s dowie, stiff, an’ crazy, An’ thy auld hide as white’s a daisie, I’ve seen thee dappl’t, sleek an’ glaizie, A bonie gray: He should been tight that daur’t to … 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 →

Robert Burns «My Nannie, O.»

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My Nannie, O. Behind yon hills, where Lugar flows, ⁠’Mang moors and mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has clos’d, ⁠And I’ll awa’ to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill; ⁠The night’s baith mirk and rainy, O; But I’ll get my plaid, and out I’ll steal. ⁠And o’er the hill to Nannie, O. My Nannie’s charming, sweet, and young; ⁠Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O: May ill befa’ the flattering tongue ⁠That wad beguile my Nannie, O. Her face is fair, her heart is true, ⁠As spotless as she’s bonnie, O; The opening gowan … Читать далее →

Robert Burns «Thou Gloomy December»

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Thou Gloomy December Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! Ance mair I hail thee wi’ sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember- Parting wi’ Nancy, oh, ne’er to meet mair! Fond lovers’ parting is sweet, painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever! Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure! Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, Till the last leaf o’ the summer is flown; Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, Till my last hope and last comfort is gone. Still … Читать далее →

Robert Burns «I Hae a Wife O’ My Ain»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение Роберта Бернса (1759 — 1796) «У меня есть жена…» на английском языке и в пяти переводах на русский язык. I Hae a Wife O’ My Ain I Hae a wife of my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll take Cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie Cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend, There-thanks to naebody! I hae naething to lend, I’ll borrow frae naebody. I am naebody’s lord, I’ll be slave to naebody; I hae a gude braid sword, I’ll tak dunts frae naebody. I’ll be merry and free, I’ll be sad for naebody; Naebody cares for me, … Читать далее →