John Keats (Джон Китс)

This Living Hand

This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed - see here it is -
I hold it towards you. 

1. Что сказал дрозд • What the Thrush Said
2. Ответ на сонет Дж. Г. Рейнолдса • Written in Answer to a Sonnet by J.H. Reynolds
3. Леди, встреченной на прогулке в Воксхолле • To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall
4. Песня («Прискакал незнакомец и въехал во двор») • Song (“The stranger lighted from his steed”)
5. Песня четырёх фей • Song of Four Faries

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