Сказки старой Англии |
Здравствуйте, гость ( Вход | Регистрация )
Сказки старой Англии |
Ursula |
21.7.2008, 22:43
Сообщение
#1
|
Новичок Группа: Пользователи Сообщений: 15 Регистрация: 25.5.2006 Пользователь №: 70 111 Репутация: 0 |
А как насчёт того, чтобы вечером у костра послушать или рассказать самим старые английские сказки, саги, баллады...
-------------------- переведены со старого форума Альянса
|
Dr.Watson |
3.1.2015, 22:53
Сообщение
#2
|
Новичок Группа: Пользователи Сообщений: 22 Регистрация: 29.12.2014 Пользователь №: 578 991 Город: Москва Репутация: 2 |
Лан, пусть будет посему:
La Belle Dame Sans Merci I. Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has wither’d from the lake, And no birds sing. II. Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full, And the harvest’s done. III. I see a lily on thy brow With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too. IV. I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. V. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She look’d at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. VI. I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song. VII. She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna dew, And sure in language strange she said— “I love thee true.” VIII. She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept, and sigh’d fill sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. IX. And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream’d On the cold hill’s side. X. I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!” XI. I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill’s side. XII. And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, And no birds sing. Original Poem - © John Keats, 1819 Является переложением одноименной поэмы французского поэта Аллейна Шартье (Alleine Chartier 1386-1429) Сообщение отредактировал Dr.Watson - 3.1.2015, 23:15 -------------------- "Гусар, доживший до 30 лет - не гусар, а говно" - © маршал Даву
|
Текстовая версия |
|
Сейчас: 16.11.2024, 17:33
|