Thomas Moore (Òîìàñ Ìóð)

The Last Rose of Summer

’TIS the last rose of summer
  Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
  Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
  No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
  To give sigh for sigh.

I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one!
  To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
  Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
  Thy leaves o’er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
  Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
  When friendships decay,
And from Love’s shining circle
  The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie withered
  And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
  This bleak world alone?

Ïîñëåäíÿÿ ðîçà

Öâåòåò îäèíîêî
Ïîñëåäíÿÿ Ðîçà,
Ïîäðóãè ïîãèáëè
Ïîä ãíåòîì ìîðîçà,
À ñâåæèõ áóòîíîâ
Âîêðóã íå âèäàòü,
×òîá èìè ãîðäèòüñÿ
È ñ íèìè âçäûõàòü.

Òàê ÷òî æ íà ñòåáëå òû
Òîìèøüñÿ â áåññèëüè,
Çàñíè ñ íèìè âìåñòå
 èõ áðàòñêîé ìîãèëå;
ß íåæíî óñûïëþ
Òâîåþ ëèñòâîé
Òî ëîæå, ãäå ñ íèìè
Òû âêóñèøü ïîêîé.

È ìíå áû ïîðà óæ:
Ñ ëþáâè îæåðåëüÿ
Áðèëüÿíò çà áðèëüÿíòîì
Îáîðâàí ìåòåëüþ,
Äðóçüÿ, êòî â ìîãèëå,
Êòî áðîøåíû âäàëü, —
Òàê ìèð ëè ïóñòûííûé
Ïîêèíóòü ìíå æàëü?

Ïåðåâîä À.À. Êóðñèíñêîãî

1. The Donkey and his Panniers
2. One Bumper At Parting
3. While History's Muse
4. Silence Is In Our Festal Halls
5. The Wandering Bard

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå (Poem to print)

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 1368

Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ

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