James Joyce



                   Tutto é Sciolto


                   A birdless heaven, seadusk, one lone star
                   Piercing the west,
                   As thou, fond heart, love’s time, so faint, so far,
                   Rememberest.

                   The clear young eyes’ soft look, the candid brow,
                   The fragrant hair,
                   Falling as through the silence falleth now
                   Dusk of the air.

                   Why then, remembering those shy
                   Sweet lures, repine
                   When the dear love she yielded with a sigh
                   Was all but thine?


     _________________________________________________________________________________________


                   К списку авторов     К списку произведений