Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс)

* * *

BLITHE hae I been on yon hill,
  As the lambs before me;
Careless ilka thought and free,
  As the breeze flew o’er me:
Now nae langer sport and play,
  Mirth or sang can please me;
Lesley is sae fair and coy,
  Care and anguish seize me.

Heavy, heavy is the task,
  Hopeless love declaring:
Trembling, I dow nocht but glowr,
  Sighing, dumb, despairing!
If she winna ease the thraws
  In my bosom swelling,
Underneath the grass-green sod
  Soon maun be my dwelling.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. Farewell to Ballochmyle
4. Lines Written under the Picture of Miss Burns
5. On a Bank of Flowers

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