Элла Уилкокс (Ella Wheeler Wilcox) Текст оригинала на английском языке Our Lives Our lives are songs. God writes the words, And we set them to music at pleasure; And the song grows glad, or sweet, or sad, As we choose to fashion the measure. We must write the music, whatever the song, Whatever its rhyme, or metre; And if it is sad, we can make it glad, Or if sweet, we can make it sweeter. One has a song that is free and strong; But the music he writes is minor; And the sad, sad strain is replete with pain, And the singer becomes a repiner. And he thinks God gave him a dirge-like lay, Nor knows the words are cheery; And the song seems lonely and solemn--only Because the music is dreary. And the song of another has through the words An under current of sadness; But he sets it to music of ringing chords, And makes it a pean of gladness. So whether our songs are sad or not, We can give the world more pleasure, And better ourselves, by setting the words To a glad, triumphant measure. 1872 |
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