Don't ask me, why with the doleful,
With dismal thoughts among the funs
I'm burdened;
Why I take a look, being dejected;
Why sweet life,
As dream has gone in vain; Don't ask,
Why by my soul chilled I've distasted love
And nobody could be called "my darling", thus;
Who once had loved,would never fall in love again;
Who was such happy,never will accept
This one, oh, no. for only a moment
The seventh heaven is: Lo!
From youth, from pleasures, from voluptuousness
There remains only the spirit low...
К-Не спрашивай, зачем... - пер. А. С. Пушкина
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111050801937
Свидетельство о публикации №111050801937
Рецензии