Those evening Bells Those evening bells How many
Козлов Иванович «Those evening Bells» Those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of youth, and home, and those sweet time, When last I heard their soothing chime. Those joyous hours are passed away; And many a heart, that then was gay, Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so’t will be when I am gone; That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.
1. Should old acquaintance be forgot And never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne! Chorus: And days of auld lang syne, my dear, And days of auld lang syne, Should old acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne? 2. And there's a hand, my trusty friend! And gie's a hand o' thine! We'll take a cup o’kindness yet, For auld lang syne. Chorus: For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compar
Послушайте переводы А. С. Пушкина на английский язык: Я вас любил. . . Я вас любил: любовь еще, быть может, В душе моей угасла не совсем; Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит; Я не хочу печалить вас ничем. Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно, То робостью, то ревностью томим; Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно, Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим А. С. Пушкин, 1829. I loved you, and that love. . . I loved you, and that love to die refusing, May still - who knows! Be smoldering in my breast. Pray, be not pained -- believe me, of my choosing I'd never have you troubled nor yet distressed. I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly, With shy yet fervent, tenderness aglow; Mine was a jealous passion and unruly…. May Heaven grant another loves you so! I Loved You. . . I loved you -- and love it may yet be (Translated by Irina Zheleznova) Deep in my soul. It might still smoulder there. But do not trouble your dear heart for me
Песня «Moscow Nights» Stillness in the grove, not a rustling sound Softly shines the moon clear and bright. Dear, if you could know how I treasure so The most beautiful Moscow night. Lazily the brook, like a silv'ry stream Ripples gently in the moonlight, And a song afar fades as in a dream, In the spell of this summer night. Dearest, why so sad, why the downcast eyes, And your lovely head bent so low? Oh, It's hard to speak---and yet not to speak Of the longing my heart does know. Promise me, my love, as the dawn appears And the darkness turns into light, That you'll cherish, dear, thru the passing years This most beautiful Moscow night.
Katusha Apple trees and pear trees were a flower, River mist was rising all around. Young Katusha went strolling by the hour On the steep banks, O'er the rocky ground. By the river's bank she sang a love song Of hero in a distant land. Of the one she'd dearly loved for so long, Holding tight his letters in her hand. Oh, my song, song of a maiden's true love, To my dear one travel with the sun. To the one with whom Katusha knew love, Bring my greetings to him, one by one. Let him know that I am true and faithful, Let him hear the love song that I send. Tell him as he defends our home that grateful, True Katusha our love will defend.
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