Âñ³ âîíè ðîç³éøëèñü,
Çàìêíåíèé, â òèø³, ä³ì,
Çàéâ³ ñëîâà ÿê³ñü.
ijðàìè ñò³í íàñêð³çü
³þòü â³òðè ó í³ì –
Âñ³ âîíè ðîç³éøëèñü.
Çàðàç òàì ïóñòî ñêð³çü
Ãàðí³, ïîãàí³ ¿ì –
Çàéâ³ ñëîâà ÿê³ñü.
Íàùî ó íèõ äèâèâñü,
³êíà ó äîì³ ò³ì?
Âñ³ âîíè ðîç³éøëèñü.
Äóìè ïðî íèõ ÷è¿ñü
¯ì íå ö³êàâ³, âò³ì –
Çàéâ³ ñëîâà ÿê³ñü.
Ìîòëîõ ³ òë³í ëèøèâñü
Òàì íà ãîð³, äå ä³ì –
Âñ³ âîíè ðîç³éøëèñü,
Çàéâ³ ñëîâà ÿê³ñü.
16.04.2024 Ãðå÷êà Â.Ì
The House on the Hill
By Edwin Arlington Robinson
They are all gone away,
The House is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
Through broken walls and gray
The winds blow bleak and shrill:
They are all gone away.
Nor is there one to-day
To speak them good or ill:
There is nothing more to say.
Why is it then we stray
Around the sunken sill?
They are all gone away,
And our poor fancy-play
For them is wasted skill:
There is nothing more to say.
There is ruin and decay
In the House on the Hill:
They are all gone away,
There is nothing more to say.
àäðåñà: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=1011131
Ðóáðèêà: ˳ðèêà êîõàííÿ
äàòà íàäõîäæåííÿ 16.04.2024
àâòîð: ³òàë³é Ãðå÷êà