Читать книгу Sapphic Classics - Sappho - Страница 97

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When in the spring the swallows all return,

And the bleak bitter sea grows mild once more,

With all its thunders softened to a sigh;

When to the meadows the young green comes back,

And swelling buds put forth on every bough, 5

With wild-wood odours on the delicate air;

Ah, then, in that so lovely earth wilt thou

With all thy beauty love me all one way,

And make me all thy lover as before?

Lo, where the white-maned horses of the surge, 10

Plunging in thunderous onset to the shore,

Trample and break and charge along the sand!