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The Joyous Wanderer Translated from M. Catulle Mendès I go by road, I go by street— Lira, la, la! O white highways, ye know my feet! A loaf I carry and, all told, Three broad bits of lucky gold— Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart, (Sing, dear nightingale!) is my Sweet. A poor man met me and begged for bread— Lira, la, la! "Brother, take all the loaf," I said, I shall but go with lighter cheer— Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, sweet nightingale!) is my Dear. A thief I met on the lonely way— Lira, la, la! He took my gold; I cried to him, "Stay! And take my pocket and make an end." Lira, la, la! And O within my flowering heart (Sing, soft nightingale!) is my Friend. Now on the plain I have met with death— Lira, la, la! My bread is gone, my gold, my breath. But O this heart is not afraid— Lira, la, la! For O within this lonely heart (Sing, sad nightingale!) is my Maid. Alice Meynell's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1188 |
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