XXIV. Silently she s combing...

Мягко ходит гребень
В долгих волосах;
Песенка беспечная
На её устах.

В листьях ивы — солнце,
На траве — роса,
Гребень в долгих волосах,
В зеркале — глаза.

Вынь, молю, скорее
Гребень из волос —
Про беду влюбившихся
Слышать довелось:

Невпопад и радость,
Невпопад печаль
От беспечной песенки,
От беспечных чар.




Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair,
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.

The sun is in the willow leaves
And in the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.

I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air.

That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.