Читать книгу С миру по нитке. Поэтические переводы - Ирина Явчуновская, Сара Тисдейл - Страница 13

My heart is like the willow

That bends, but never breaks.

It sighs when summer jilts her,

It sings when April wakes.

So you, who come a-smiling

With summer in your eyes,

Think not that your beguiling

Will take me by surprise.

My heart’s prepared for aching

The moment you take wing.

But not, my friend, for breaking

While there’s another spring.

So share my summer pillow,

Don’t spare my autumn aches;

My heart is like the willow

That bends, but never breaks.