Oh, what can turn poor chestnut tree so blind
And made it bloom once more in early autumn?
Oh, what an illness grew in maiden’s mind
And forced her heart get sank in running water?
Not far enough her eyes were sparkling bright
And voice was clear, full of laugh and silver
She never meant committing suicide
But now, alas, she’s buried like a sinner.
And she was once a daughter, calm and gentle,
And tender once she was as princes lover
So then her choice had come to be unable
Between a man she loved and dear father.
Oh, how she trembled when they called her “darling” -
Wide opened eyes, she always seemed fragile –
And in her weakness she was sweetly charming
Like newborn kitten, like unspoiled child.
And what's for now? - She sleeps inside her coffin
Yet beautiful, but torn by sudden Death.
And only wind of funeral this morning
Remind us softness of young ladies breath.
Ophelia
© Copyright: Мария Удовенко, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112100910721
Свидетельство о публикации №112100910721
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