FROM WILLIAM BLAKE
A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said, "I’ve a pretty rose tree,"
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
ROZA
– Davay v moey leubimoy pozie!
(Legla spinoy na taburet,
s uma s...) A vdrug raskagiut Rozie?
– Net, krasota. Segodnia – net.
... Da, gizne – mucitelenaia sckola.
Cto – Roza? V noce togo-ge dnia
shipami revnosti kolola
i toleko mucila menia.
© Alt.ru-21