Перевод моего стихотворения на английский
The Voice of the Soul
On the funeral morn the whistles were ringing,
And heavens were covered with grey sombre vail,
And waves on the seashore were crashing and singing
As if farewelled and sent me the mail.
And voice of my soul was whispering with bleakness:
“Be humbled and follow after thy fear,
There will be an asylum for thy soul sickness,
Thou only be humbled, be humbled, my dear.
And there jolly meeting is patiently waiting,
And soul will be warmed by the heavenly Lear,
And all of thy troubles the God will be quieting,
Thou only be patient, be patient, my dear”.