В поисках пассата | страница 14

Each minute sweeter than before

The redbreast sings from the tall larch

That stands beside our door.

There is a blessing in the air,

Which seems a sense of joy to yield

To the bare trees, and mountains bare,

And grass in the green field.

My sister! ('tis a wish of mine)

Now that our morning meal is done,

Make haste, your morning task resign;

Come forth and feel the sun.

Edward will come with you; — and, pray,

Put on with speed your woodland dress;

And bring no book: for this one day

We'll give to idleness.

No joyless forms shall regulate

Our living calendar:

We from to-day, my Friend, will date

The opening of the year.

Love, now a universal birth,

From heart to heart is stealing,

From earth to man, from man to earth:

— It is the hour of feeling.

One moment now may give us more

Than years of toiling reason:

Our minds shall drink at every pore

The spirit of the season.

Some silent laws our hearts will make,

Which they shall long obey:

We for the year to come may take

Our temper from to-day.

And from the blessed power that rolls

About, below, above,

We'll frame the measure of our souls:

They shall be tuned to love.

Then come, my Sister! come, I pray,

With speed put on your woodland dress;

And bring no book: for this one day

We'll give to idleness.

В горах моё сердце, оно не со мной,

За диким оленем несётся стрелой,

За быстрой косулей бежит по следам…

В горах моё сердце, оттуда я сам.

Прощайте, Нагорья, мой Север, прощай,

Отечество доблести, гордый мой край;

Но верность утёсам родимой земли

Беру я навечно в скитанья свои.

Прощайте же, снежные шапки вершин,

Ущелья, и зелень предгорных долин,

И цепкие ели на склонах хребта,

Ручьёв громогласных, прощай, чистота.

В горах моё сердце, оно не со мной,

За диким оленем несётся стрелой,

За быстрой косулей бежит по следам…

В горах моё сердце, оттуда я сам.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer —

A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;

My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North

The birth place of Valour, the country of Worth;

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;

Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;

Farewell to the forrests and wild-hanging woods;

Farwell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,