A Red Red Rose
***
O my Luve’s like a red, red rose.
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve’s like the melodie.
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry:
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee well, my only Luve.
And fare thee well, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile.
***
R. Burns.
Красная, красная Роза
© Copyright: Владислав Кобелев 42, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124060706334
Свидетельство о публикации №124060706334
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