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Йейтс Уильям Батлер
«Стихи. (В переводах разных авторов)»

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The dance wound through the windless woods;

The ever-summered solitudes;

Until the tossing arms grew still

Upon the woody central hill;

And, gathered in a panting band,

We flung on high each waving hand,

And sang unto the starry broods.

In our raised eyes there flashed a glow

Of milky brightness to and fro

As thus our song arose: 'You stars,

Across your wandering ruby cars

Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God.

He rules you with an iron rod,

He holds you with an iron bond,

Each one woven to the other,

Each one woven to his brother

Like bubbles in a frozen pond;

But we in a lonely land abide

Unchainable as the dim tide,

With hearts that know nor law nor rule,

And hands that hold no wearisome tool,

Folded in love that fears no morrow,

Nor the grey wandering osprey Sorrow.

O Patrick! for a hundred years

I chased upon that woody shore

The deer, the badger, and the boar.

O patrick! for a hundred years

At evening on the glimmering sands,

Beside the piled-up hunting spears,



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