On his hand, many rings have been shining so bright, —
They are girls' tender hearts conquered by his love sight.
There diamond triumphs, while romantic opal dreams,
There beautiful ruby such a fancy blush brings.
But one cannot find my ring on his pale white hand,
I'll never give it to anyone on this Land.
It was forged by a gentle and golden moonbeam,
Which put it on, whispered pleadingly in my dream:
«Keep this gift and be proud of the desire of yours!»
I'll never to any give my ring on this Earth.
5 July, 2024
***
Фото: worldofhistory.ru
Анна Ахматова На руке его много... перевод на англ
© Copyright: Валентина Ильина-Печенова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124070603771
Свидетельство о публикации №124070603771
Рецензии