Воскресенье, 08 октября 2023 20:59

Джон Китс - La Belle Dame sans Merci. Комикс Джулиана Петерса



O what can ail thee, knight at arms,      Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has wither'd from the lake,      And no birds sing.


 O What can ail thee, knight at arms,      So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel's granary is full,      And the harvest's done.  I see a lily on thy brow      With anguish moist and fever dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose      Fast withereth too.  I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful, a fairy's child; Her hair was long, her foot was light,      And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,      And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She look'd at me as she did love,      And made sweet moan.  I set her on my pacing steed,      And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing      A fairy's song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,      And honey wild, and manna dew, And sure in language strange she said—      I love thee true.  She took me to her elfin grot,

And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes      With kisses four.  And there she lulled me asleep,

And there I dream'd—Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd      On the cold hill's side.  I saw pale kings, and princes too,      Pale warriors, death pale were they all;

They cried—

On the cold hill's side.  And this is why I sojourn here,      Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,      And no birds sing.

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