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

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or an otter slid into the stream.


We are on the bridge; that shadow is the tower,


And the light proves that he is reading still.


He has found, after the manner of his kind,


Mere images; chosen this place to live in


Because, it may be, of the candle-light


From the far tower where Milton's Platonist


Sat late, or Shelley's visionary prince:


The lonely light that Samuel Palmer engraved,


An image of mysterious wisdom won by toil;


And now he seeks in book or manuscript


What he shall never find.




Aherne. Why should not you


Who know it all ring at his door, and speak


Just truth enough to show that his whole life


Will scarcely find for him a broken crust


Of all those truths that are your daily bread;


And when you have spoken take the roads again?




Robartes. He wrote of me in that extravagant style


He had learnt from Pater, and to round his tale


Said I was dead; and dead I choose to be.




Aherne. Sing me the changes of the moon once more;


True song, though speech: "mine author sung it me."




Robartes. Twenty-and-eight the phases of the moon,


The full and the moon's dark and all the crescents,


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