English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 35. On the Idle Hill of Summer. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 35. На горе пустынной, летней
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 35. On the Idle Hill of Summer On the idle hill of summer, Sleepy with the flow of streams, Far I hear the steady drummer Drumming like a noise in dreams. Far and near and low and […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 60. Now Hollow Fires Burn out to Black. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 60. Now Hollow Fires Burn out to Black Now hollow fires burn out to black, And lights are guttering low: Square your shoulders, lift your pack, And leave your friends and go. Oh never fear, man, nought’s […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 43. The Immortal Part. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 43. The Immortal Part When I meet the morning beam, Or lay me down at night to dream, I hear my bones within me say, “Another night, another day.” “When shall this slough of sense be cast, […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 16. It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 16. It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers It nods and curtseys and recovers When the wind blows above, The nettle on the graves of lovers That hanged themselves for love. The nettle nods, the wind blows over, […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 22. The Street Sounds to the Soldiers’ Tread. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 22. Раздался незнакомый звук
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 22. The Street Sounds to the Soldiers’ Tread The street sounds to the soldiers’ tread, And out we troop to see: A single redcoat turns his head, He turns and looks at me. My man, from sky […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 38. The Winds out of the West Land Blow. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 38. Вот западный ветер. Случалось ему
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 38. The Winds out of the West Land Blow The winds out of the west land blow, My friends have breathed them there; Warm with the blood of lads I know Comes east the sighing air. It […]
English Poetry. Lewis Carroll. Brother And Sister. Льюис Кэрролл.
Lewis Carroll (Льюис Кэрролл) Brother And Sister “SISTER, sister, go to bed! Go and rest your weary head.” Thus the prudent brother said. “Do you want a battered hide, Or scratches to your face applied?” Thus his sister calm replied. “Sister, do not raise my wrath. […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 50. Clunton and Clunbury. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 50. Clunton and Clunbury Clunton and Clunbury, Clungunford and Clun, Are the quietest places Under the sun. In valleys of springs of rivers, By Ony and Teme and Clun, The country for easy livers, The quietest […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 53. The True Lover. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 53. The True Lover The lad came to the door at night, When lovers crown their vows, And whistled soft and out of sight In shadow of the boughs. “I shall not vex you with my face […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 15. Look not in My Eyes, for Fear. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 15. Look not in My Eyes, for Fear Look not in my eyes, for fear They mirror true the sight I see, And there you find your face too clear And love it and be lost like me. […]
English Poetry. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Artist. Артур Конан Дойль. Из отроческих стихов Артура Конан Дойля. На смерть Ричарда Дойля, художника
Arthur Conan Doyle (Артур Конан Дойль) The Artist His body was conveyed to his studio – where it lay surrounded by his pictures, most of which represented fairy subjects. The little elves upon the walls Cried, “What is this before us? “Why should the Master lie […]
English Poetry. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Passage of the Red Sea. Артур Конан Дойль. Из отроческих стихов Артура Конан Дойля. Переход через Красное море
Arthur Conan Doyle (Артур Конан Дойль) The Passage of the Red Sea Like to white daisies in a blooming wood, So round the sea the tents of Israel stood; To east and west, as far as eye could reach, The thronging crowds are seen along the beach. What […]
English Poetry. Arthur Conan Doyle. The Rattle of the Bicycles. Артур Конан Дойль. Из отроческих стихов Артура Конан Дойля. «Велосипедов дребезжание…»
Arthur Conan Doyle (Артур Конан Дойль) The Rattle of the Bicycles The rattle of the bicycles The cosy village tea, The walking up the long hills Which seemed too short to me, The journey in the murder stone The chat beside the way The ride all round a […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 30. OTHERS, I Am Not the First. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 30. Не первый я. Многим хотелось
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 30. OTHERS, I Am Not the First OTHERS, I am not the first, Have willed more mischief than they durst: If in the breathless night I too Shiver now, ’tis nothing new. More than I, if truth […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 45. IF it Chance Your Eye Offend You. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 45. IF it Chance Your Eye Offend You IF it chance your eye offend you, Pluck it out, lad, and be sound: ’Twill hurt, but here are salves to friend you, And many a balsam grows on ground. […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 63. I HOED and Trenched and Weeded. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 63. I HOED and Trenched and Weeded I HOED and trenched and weeded, And took the flowers to fair: I brought them home unheeded; The hue was not the wear. So up and down I sow them […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 14. There Pass the Careless People. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 14. Идут беспечно люди
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 14. There Pass the Careless People There pass the careless people That call their souls their own; Here by the road I loiter, How idle and alone. Ah, past the plunge of plummet, In seas I cannot […]
English Poetry. Lewis Carroll. A Valentine. Льюис Кэрролл.
Lewis Carroll (Льюис Кэрролл) A Valentine Sent to a friend who had complained that I was glad enough to see him when he came, but didn’t seem to miss him if he stayed away. And cannot pleasures, while they last, Be actual unless, when past, They leave […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 12. When I Watch the Living Meet. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен). Шропширский парень. 12. Если снова толчея
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 12. When I Watch the Living Meet When I watch the living meet, And the moving pageant file Warm and breathing through the street Where I lodge a little while, If the heats of hate and lust […]
English Poetry. Alfred Edward Housman. A Shropshire Lad. 9. On Moonlit Heath and Lonesome Bank. Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен).
Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен)) A Shropshire Lad. 9. On Moonlit Heath and Lonesome Bank On moonlit heath and lonesome bank The sheep beside me graze; And yon the gallows used to clank Fast by the four cross ways. A careless shepherd once would keep […]
English Poetry. Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. Eliza Harris. Фрэнсис Харпер.
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (Фрэнсис Харпер) Eliza Harris Like a fawn from the arrow, startled and wild, A woman swept by us, bearing a child; In her eye was the night of a settled despair, And her brow was o’ershaded with anguish and care. She was nearing […]
English Poetry. Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. A Double Standard. Фрэнсис Харпер.
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (Фрэнсис Харпер) A Double Standard DO you blame me that I loved him? If when standing all alone I cried for bread a careless world Pressed to my lips a stone. Do you blame me that I loved him, That my heart beat […]
English Poetry. Frances Ellen Watkins Harper. President Lincoln’s Proclamation of Freedom. Фрэнсис Харпер.
Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (Фрэнсис Харпер) President Lincoln’s Proclamation of Freedom IT shall flash through coming ages; It shall light the distant years; And eyes now dim with sorrow Shall be clearer through their tears. It shall flush the mountain ranges; And the valleys shall grow bright; […]
English Poetry. John Harington. An Elegy of a Pointed Diamond Given by the Author to His Wife at the Birth of His Eldest Son. Джон Харингтон.
John Harington (Джон Харингтон) An Elegy of a Pointed Diamond Given by the Author to His Wife at the Birth of His Eldest Son DEAR, I to thee this diamond commend, In which a model of thyself I send. How just unto thy joints this circlet sitteth, So […]
English Poetry. John Harington. Ingratitude. Джон Харингтон.
John Harington (Джон Харингтон) Ingratitude Unthankfulness is that great sin, Which made the devil and his angels fall: Lost him and them the joys that they were in, And now in hell detains them bound in thrall. John Harington’s other poems: On the Wares in Ireland An Elegy […]
English Poetry. John Harington. On the Wares in Ireland. Джон Харингтон.
John Harington (Джон Харингтон) On the Wares in Ireland I praised the speech, but cannot now abide it, That warre is sweet to those that have not try’d it; For I have proved it now and plainly see’t, It is so sweet, it maketh all things sweet. At […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. To a Well-Named Dwelling. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) To a Well-Named Dwelling Glad old house of lichened stonework, What I owed you in my lone work, Noon and night! Whensoever faint or ailing, Letting go my grasp and failing, You lent light. How by that fair title came you? Did […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. «Sacred to the Memory». Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) «Sacred to the Memory» (Mary H.) That ‘Sacred to the Memory’ Is clearly carven there I own, And all may think that on the stone The words have been inscribed by me In bare conventionality. They know not and will never […]
English Poetry. Lewis Carroll. Dreamland. Льюис Кэрролл.
Lewis Carroll (Льюис Кэрролл) Dreamland When midnight mists are creeping, And all the land is sleeping, Around me tread the mighty dead, And slowly pass away. Lo, warriors, saints, and sages, From out the vanished ages, With solemn pace and reverend face Appear and pass away. The blaze […]
English Poetry. George Gordon Byron. John Keats. Джордж Гордон Байрон. На смерть поэта Джона Китса
George Gordon Byron (Джордж Гордон Байрон) John Keats Who killed John Keats? ‘I,’ says the Quarterly, So savage and Tartarly; ”Twas one of my feats.’ Who shot the arrow? ‘The poet-priest Milman (So ready to kill man), Or Southey or Barrow. 30 July 1821 Перевод на русский […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Her Apotheosis. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Her Apotheosis ‘Secretum meum mihi’ (Faded Woman’s Song) There were years vague of measure, Needless the asking when; No honours, praises, pleasure Reached common maids from men. And hence no lures bewitched them, No hand was stretched to raise, No […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. Her Apotheosis. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) Her Apotheosis ‘Secretum meum mihi’ (Faded Woman’s Song) There were years vague of measure, Needless the asking when; No honours, praises, pleasure Reached common maids from men. And hence no lures bewitched them, No hand was stretched to raise, No […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. An Old Likeness. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) An Old Likeness (Recalling R.T.) Who would have thought That, not having missed her Talks, tears, laughter In absence, or sought To recall for so long Her gamut of song; Or ever to waft her Signal of aught That she, fancy-fanned, Would […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. An Old Likeness. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) An Old Likeness (Recalling R.T.) Who would have thought That, not having missed her Talks, tears, laughter In absence, or sought To recall for so long Her gamut of song; Or ever to waft her Signal of aught That she, fancy-fanned, Would […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. On a Discovered Curl of Hair. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) On a Discovered Curl of Hair When your soft welcomings were said, This curl was waving on your head, And when we walked where breakers dinned It sported in the sun and wind, And when I had won your words of grace It […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. On a Discovered Curl of Hair. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) On a Discovered Curl of Hair When your soft welcomings were said, This curl was waving on your head, And when we walked where breakers dinned It sported in the sun and wind, And when I had won your words of grace It […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. I Was the Midmost. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) I Was the Midmost I was the midmost of my world When first I frisked me free, For though within its circuit gleamed But a small company, And I was immature, they seemed To bend their looks on me. She was the […]
English Poetry. Thomas Hardy. I Was the Midmost. Томас Гарди (Харди).
Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди)) I Was the Midmost I was the midmost of my world When first I frisked me free, For though within its circuit gleamed But a small company, And I was immature, they seemed To bend their looks on me. She was the […]
English Poetry. Gabriel Harvey. Speculum Tuscanismi. Габриэл Харви.
Gabriel Harvey (Габриэл Харви) Speculum Tuscanismi Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp, Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress No man but minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording: No words but valorous, no works but womanish only. For life Magnificoes, not a beck […]
English Poetry. Robert Wilson. Elegy on the Death of Burns. Роберт Уилсон. Элегия на смерть Бернса
Robert Wilson (Роберт Уилсон) Elegy on the Death of Burns “Quis desiderio sit pudor, aut modus, Tam cari capitis? Рraecipe lugubris Cantus, Melpomene, cui liquidam pater Vocem cum cithara dedit.” –– Hor. COME a’ ye minstrels, auld an’ gray, An’ stent yer strings, […]