Когда мы шли домой чрез холм,
Листва не падала в колке,
Не рвалась в нежном ветерке
Паучья сеть - был бриз несмел,
Живой забор цветами полн -
Ни лепесточка на песке.
Но цвет шиповника в венке
Твоем увял и побурел.
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When we came home across the hill
T. S. Eliot
When we came home across the hill
No leaves were fallen from the trees;
The gentle fingers of the breeze
Had torn no quivering cobweb down.
The hedgerow bloomed with flowers still,
No withered petals lay beneath;
But the wild roses in your wreath
Were faded, and the leaves were brown.