Текст оригинала на английском языке
The Hill Path
TO H.D.S. Are the little breezes blind, They that push me as they pass? Do they search the tangled grass For some path they want to find? Take my fingers, little wind; You are all alone, and I Am alone too. I will guide, You will follow; let us go By a pathway that I know, Leading down the steep hillside, Past the little sharp-lipped pools, Shrunken with the summer sun, Where the sparrows come to drink; And we’ll scare the little birds, Coming on them unawares; And the daisies every one We will startle on the brink Of a doze. (Gently, gently, little wind), Very soon a wood we’ll see, There my lover waits for me. (Go more gently, little wind, You should follow soft, behind.) You will hear my lover say How he loves me night and day, But his words you must not tell To the other little winds, For they all might come to hear, And might rustle through the wood, And disturb the solitude. (Blow more softly, little wind, You are tossing all my hair, Go more gently, have a care; If you lead you can’t be blind, So,--good-bye:) There he goes: I see his feet On the grass; Now the little pools are blurred As they pass; And he must be very fleet, For I see the bushes stirred Near the wood. I hope he’ll tell, If he isn’t out of breath, That he met me on the hill. But I hope he will not say That he kissed me for good-bye Just before he flew away.
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