УБОГИЙ ДОМ
Мир, Надежда мимо шли –
Прошли своим путём;
Юность, Здравие, Любовь
Обходят этот дом.
Капли слёз прольют жильцы
На горький хлеб забот;
Этот – стар, безумен сей
И слёг в болезни тот.
Смерть ступила на порог,
Но глянула - и вспять:
"Кто не жил - тот смерть свою
Может подождать".
THE POOR HOUSE
HOPE went by and Peace went by
And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health went by
And Love that is their kin.
Those within the house shed tears
On their bitter bread;
Some were old and some were mad,
And some were sick a-bed.
Gray Death saw the wretched house
And even he passed by--
"They have never lived," he said,
"They can wait to die."