Thomas Hardy (Òîìàñ Õàðäè)

* * *

I travel as a phantom now,
For people do not wish to see
In flesh and blood so bare a bough
As Nature makes of me.

And thus I visit bodiless
Strange gloomy households often at odds,
And wonder if Man’s consciousness
Was a mistake of God’s.

And next I meet you, and I pause,
And think that if mistake it were,
As some have said, O then it was
One that I well can bear!

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)

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