Thomas Hardy (Òîìàñ Õàðäè)

The Moon Looks In

I

I have risen again,
And awhile survey
By my chilly ray
Through your window-pane
Your upturned face,
As you think, ‘Ah – she
Now dreams of me
In her distant place!’

II

I pierce her blind
In her far-off home:
She fixes a comb,
And says in her mind,
‘I start in an hour;
Whom shall I meet?
Won’t the men be sweet,
And the women sour!’

1. For Life I Had Never Cared Greatly
2. Men Who March Away
3. On the Belgian Expatriation
4. An Appeal to America on Behalf of the Belgian Destitute
5. In Time of Wars and Tumults

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå (Poem to print)

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 526

Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ

Ïîääåðæàòü ñàéò

To English version