ДУЭТ (СУИНБЕРН)

A MATCH

IF love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf,
Our lives would grow together
In sad or singing weather,
Blown fields or flowerful closes
Green pleasure or grey grief ;
If love were what the rose is,
And I were like the leaf.

If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune,
With double sound and single
Delight our lips would mingle,
With kisses glad as birds are
That get sweet rain at noon ;
If I were what the words are,
And love were like the tune.

If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death,
We 'd shine and snow together
Ere March made sweet the weather
With daffodil and starling
And hours of fruitful breath ;
If you were life, my darling,
And I your love were death.

If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy,
We 'd play for lives and seasons
With loving looks and treasons
And tears of night and morrow
And laughs of maid and boy ;
If you were thrall to sorrow,
And I were page to joy. ,

If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May,
We 'd throw with leaves for hours
And draw for days with flowers,
Till day like night were shady
And night were bright like day ;
If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May.

If you were April's lady,
And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure,
And I were king of pain,
We 'd hunt down love together,
Pluck out his flying-feather,
And teach his feet a measure,
And find his mouth a rein ;

* * *

Ах, будь любовь, как роза,
А я – как лепесток,
Двоим бы нам досталась
Одна печаль и радость,
Строка стихов и прозы,
Мороз и солнцепёк.
Ах, будь любовь, как роза,
А я – как лепесток.

Ах, будь любовь, как песня,
Я был бы менестрель.
И наших уст слиянье
Дарило бы звучанье
Мелодии небесной
Полночную капель.
Ах, будь любовь, как песня,
Я был бы менестрель.

Будь жизнью, дорогая,
Тогда мой образ – смерть.
Мы будем неразлучны,
Зимой собственноручно,
Цветы в снегах сажая,
Скворцов заставим петь.
Будь жизнью дорогая,
Тогда мой образ – смерть.

Стань пленницей печали,
Я – радости пажом.
Измены, верность, слёзы –
Любви шипы и розы;
Букет бы стал едва ли
Печален иль смешон.
Стань пленницей печали,
Я – радости пажом.

Будь твой апрель, мне, впрочем,
Быть майским королём,
Вплетя листву в одежды,
Совьем венок надежды,
Ко дню, что станет ночью,
И к ночи, ставшей днём.
Будь твой апрель, мне, впрочем,
Быть майским королём.

Владычица апрелей,
Я – майский государь,
Царица наслаждений,
Я – мук сердечных царь,
Вдвоём с тобой мы сможем
Любовь поймать, стреножить,
И приручить, о Боже,
Стреноженную тварь

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