Francis Ledwidge: Все стихи поэта

Все стихи Оригиналы Переводы

« ‹ 1 2 3 4 › »

With Flowers

These have more language than my song,

Take them and let them speak for me.

I whispered them a secret thing

Down the green lanes of Allary.

You shall remember quiet ways

Watching them fade, and quiet eyes,

And two hearts given up to love,

A foolish and an overwise.

by Francis Ledwidge

Fairies

Maiden-poet, come with me

To the heaped up cairn of Maeve,

And there we'll dance a fairy dance

Upon a fairy's grave.

In and out among the trees,

Filling all the night with sound,

The morning, strung upon her star,

Shall chase us round and round.

by Francis Ledwidge

In France

The silence of maternal hills

Is round me in my evening dreams ;

And round me music-making bills

And mingling waves of pastoral streams.

Whatever way I turn I find

The path is old unto me still.

The hills of home are in my mind,

And there I wander as I will.

by Francis Ledwidge

Old Clo'

I was just coming in from the garden,

Or about to go fishing for eels,

And, smiling, I asked you to pardon

My boots very low at the heels.

And I thought that you never would go,

As you stood in the doorway ajar,

For my heart would keep saying, "Old Clo',

You're found out at last as you are."

by Francis Ledwidge

Dawn

Quiet miles of golden sky,

And in my heart a sudden flower.

I want to clap my hands and cry

For Beauty in her secret bower.

Quiet golden miles of dawn—

Smiling all the East along ;

And in my heart nigh fully blown,

A little rose-bud of a song.

by Francis Ledwidge

Autumn

Now leafy winds are blowing cold,

And South by West the sun goes down,

A quiet huddles up the fold

In sheltered corners of the brown.

Like scattered fire the wild fruit strews

The ground beneath the blowing tree,

And there the busy squirrel hews

His deep and secret granary.

by Francis Ledwidge

Spring Love

I saw her coming through the flowery grass,

Round her swift ankles butterfly and bee

Blent loud and silent wings ; I saw her pass

Where foam-bows shivered on the sunny sea.

Then came the swallow crowding up the dawn,

And cuckoo-echoes filled the dewy South.

I left my love upon the hill, alone,

My last kiss burning on her lovely mouth.

by Francis Ledwidge

Ardan Mór

AS I was climbing Ardan Mór

From the shore of Sheelin lake,

I met the herons coming down

Before the water’s wake.

And they were talking in their flight

Of dreamy ways the herons go

When all the hills are withered up

by Francis Ledwidge

In France

THE silence of maternal hills

Is round me in my evening dreams;

And round me music-making rills

And mingling waves of pastoral streams.

Whatever way I turn I find

The path is old unto me still.

The hills of home are in my mind,

And there I wander as I will.

by Francis Ledwidge

A Mother's Song

Little ships of whitest pearl

With sailors who were ancient kings,

Come over the sea when my little girl

Sings.

And if my little girl should weep,

Little ships with torn sails

Go headlong down among the deep

Whales.

by Francis Ledwidge

A Soldier's Grave

Then in the lull of midnight, gentle arms

Lifted him slowly down the slopes of death

Lest he should hear again the mad alarms

Of battle, dying moans, and painful breath.

And where the earth was soft for flowers we made

A grave for him that he might better rest.

So, Spring shall come and leave it seet arrayed,

And there the lark shall turn her dewy nest

by Francis Ledwidge

The Wife of Llew

And Gwydion said to Math, when it was Spring:

"Come now and let us make a wife for Llew."

And so they broke broad boughs yet moist with dew,

And in a shadow made a magic ring:

They took the violet and the meadow-sweet

To form her pretty face, and for her feet

They built a mound of daisies on a wing,

And for her voice they made a linnet sing

by Francis Ledwidge