Szerend
Rcsai Rbert fordtsa 2009.03.01. 11:45
Tisztn fj a nyugati szl
Az gei tengeren t,
Oscar Wilde: Szerend
Tisztn fj a nyugati szl
Az gei tengeren t,
S a titkos mrvnylpcsnl
Glym vrakozik Terd.
Nzd bborszn vitorlmat,
Szunnyad a vrban az rszem,
Hagyjad ott liliom-gyad,
Gyere hozzm, gyere, Hlgyem!
Nem fog jnni, ismerem jl,
nem rdekli h esk sem,
Kevs jt szlhatok arrl
Ki ily tiszta s ily kegyetlen.
Nknek a szv csupn jtk,
Bnjk is a szv fjdalmt!
S n, a szvem szeretett
Mindhiba pazarlom Rd!
Kormnyos, a valt mondjad,
Nzd, nem aranyhaj csillog ott?
Vagy csupn ragyog harmat,
Mely virgszlon lecsorgott?
Mit ltsz arra, j matrzom,
Hlgyem kezt, liliomot?
Vagy csak fnyt a hajorron,
taln az ezst homokot?
Nem! Ez nem ragyog harmat,
S nem is fodros ezst homok;
az! Nzd az aranyhajat,
Keze, mint a liliomok!
Gyernk, irny Trja fldje,
Hzd j matrz a laptot,
let s rm Kirlynje,
Itt hagyjuk a Helln partot!
Lassan spad s kkl az g,
Egy rt pihen a csendben;
Fedlzetre, j legnysg!
Gyere Hlgyem, messze innen!
Kormnyos r, irny Trja!
Hzd j matrz az evezt!
, n szvem vlasztottja,
Mindrkre imdom t!
2008-10-22
Oscar Wilde: Serenade
The western wind is blowing fair Across the dark Ægean sea, And at the secret marble stair My Tyrian galley waits for thee. Come down! the purple sail is spread, The watchman sleeps within the town, O leave thy lily-flowered bed, O Lady mine come down, come down! She will not come, I know her well, Of lover's vows she hath no care, And little good a man can tell Of one so cruel and so fair. True love is but a woman's toy, They never know the lover's pain, And I who loved as loves a boy Must love in vain, must love in vain.
O noble pilot tell me true Is that the sheen of golden hair? Or is it but the tangled dew That binds the passion-flowers there? Good sailor come and tell me now Is that my Lady's lily hand? Or is it but the gleaming prow, Or is it but the silver sand?
No! no! 'tis not the tangled dew, 'Tis not the silver-fretted sand, It is my own dear Lady true With golden hair and lily hand! O noble pilot steer for Troy, Good sailor ply the labouring oar, This is the Queen of life and joy Whom we must bear from Grecian shore!
The waning sky grows faint and blue, It wants an hour still of day, Aboard! aboard! my gallant crew, O Lady mine away! away! O noble pilot steer for Troy, Good sailor ply the labouring oar, O loved as only loves a boy! O loved for ever evermore!
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