***
It’s snowing rain. It strikes with icy grits the roof.
My favorite portrait’s of your face alighted with the torch.
The house is warmed. I’m reading on the bed aloof
About poor Lisa, her love for white bouquet she scourged.
My heart is pinching. I have closed the book of sadness.
And suddenly a smell of lilies, you brought from wood, I nearly felt.
You fled. No chance of catching you. The empty railways
Won’t bring us as a couple to station. The trace of yours has melt.
My soul due parting slightly moans. It will be calm by morning only.
Of sorrow home is full. It looks so empty for loneliness without you.
The snow's with icy grits behind the window striking strongly,
Bullfinches visited wild ash for berries and lined for them a friendly queue…
***
Вольный перевод.
"Бедная Лиза"
Лиза Тарасова
Bullfinches
© Copyright: Андрей Чекмарев, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113013005031
Свидетельство о публикации №113013005031
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И от моего, стучащего, примите с благодарностью...
Андрей Чекмарев 30.01.2013 14:21 Заявить о нарушении
Андрей Чекмарев 30.01.2013 14:21 Заявить о нарушении