Percy Bysshe Shelley (Ïåðñè Áèøè Øåëëè)

* * *

I would not be a king--enough
Of woe it is to love;
The path to power is steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.
I would not climb the imperial throne;
’Tis built on ice which fortune’s sun
Thaws in the height of noon.
Then farewell, king, yet were I one,
Care would not come so soon.
Would he and I were far away
Keeping flocks on Himalay! 

1. Ïåñíÿ äëÿ «Òàññî» • Song for «Tasso»
2. To Mary
3. Homer's Hymn To Minerva
4. Óïîäîáëåíèÿ äëÿ äâóõ ïîëèòè÷åñêèõ õàðàêòåðîâ • Similes For Two Political Characters Of 1819
5. The Spectral Horseman

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå (Poem to print)

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1030

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