Îñü âîíî, çíîâ âåñíà
³ ÿ äîâîë³ ìîëîäà ëþäèíà!
ß ñï³çíþþñÿ ç ìî¿ì ñï³âîì.
Öåé ãîðîáåöü ³ç ÷îðíèì "äîùèêîì" íà ãðóäÿõ
Ñâî¿ êàäåíö³¿ ñï³âàâ äâà òèæí³ òîìó:
³ä ÷îãî çàùåì³ëî ìîº ñåðöå?
Òðàâà íà çàäí³ì ´àíêó
ãóñòà ³ ñîêîâèòà.
ßâëÿþòü ñòàð³ êëåíè
íà â³òàõ êîðè÷íåâ³ ³ æîâò³ ìåòåëèêè-êâ³òêè.
Âèñèòü â áëàêèò³ ì³ñÿöü
ó íàäâå÷³ð'ÿ íàä áîëîòîì.
ß ñï³çíþþñÿ ç ìî¿ì ñï³âîì.
[b]William Carlos Williams THE LATE SINGER[/b]
Here it is spring again
and I still a young man!
I am late at my singing.
The sparrow with the black rain on his breast
has been at his cadenzas for two weeks past:
What is it that is dragging at my heart?
The grass by the back door
is stiff with sap.
The old maples are opening
their branches of brown and yellow moth-flowers.
A moon hangs in the blue
in the early afternoons over the marshes.
I am late at my singing.
àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=956856
Ðóáðèêà: ˳ðèêà êîõàííÿ
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 19.08.2022
àâòîð: Çîÿ Á³äèëî