Рубаи Хайяма. 31. En
Звук арф, что жалобно при том звенит, мне люб.
Ханжа, которому чужда отрада хмеля, -
Когда он за сто верст, горами скрыт, - мне люб.
A cheerful look of a full glass is dear to me,
Sound of harps that plaintively thus rings, is dear to me.
A hypocrite, who is alien to the joy of hops, -
When it for hundred versts, is hidden by mountains, - is dear to me.
(c) Omar Hayam
(c) translated into English by Maryna Tchianova
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