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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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