Oscar Wilde: LA FUITE DE LA LUNE

A kinti l�tben b�ke v�r,

�lomb�ke mindenk�ppen,

�rny�kvil�g m�ly csendj�ben,

M�ly csendben, hol az �rny meg�ll.

Halld a s�r�st: f�lbe t�p�,

Egy mag�nyos mad�r gy�sza;

P�rj�t sz�l�tja ki�ltva,

A v�lasz k�d�s hegyb�l j�.

Azt�n a Hold visszavonul,

�gb�l sarl�j�t ler�ntva,

Elsz�ll s�t�t barlangj�ba,

Arc�ra s�rga f�tyol hull.

LA FUITE DE LA LUNE

To outer senses there is peace,

A dreamy peace on either hand,

Deep silence in the shadowy land,

Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Save for a cry that echoes shrill

From some lone bird disconsolate;

A corncrake calling to its mate;

The answer from the misty hill.

And suddenly the moon withdraws

Her sickle from the lightening skies,

And to her sombre cavern flies,

Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.