Роберт Бернс (Robert Burns)

Sae Flaxen Were

SAE flaxen were her ringlets,
  Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o’erarching
  Twa laughing een o’ bonnie blue.
Her smiling, see wyling,
  Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,
  Unto these rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris’ bonnie face,
  When first her bonnie face I saw,
And aye my Chloris’ dearest charm,
  She says she lo’es me best of a’.

Like harmony her motion;
  Her pretty ancle is a spy
Betraying fair proportion,
  Wad make a saint forget the sky;
Sae warming, sae charming,
  Her faultless form and gracefu’ air;
Ilk feature-auld Nature
  Declar’d that she could do nae mair:
Hers are the willing chains o’ love,
  By conquering beauty’s sovereign law;
And aye my Chloris’ dearest charm,
  She says she lo’es me best of a’.

Let others love the city,
  And gaudy show at sunny noon;
Gie me the lonely valley,
  The dewy eve, and rising moon
Fair beaming, and streaming
  Her silver light the boughs amang;
While falling, recalling,
  The amorous thrush concludes his sang:
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
  By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o’ truth and love,
  And say thou lo’es me best of a’?

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