THE SICK ROSE
O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy,
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
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ÁÎËÜÍÀß ÐÎÇÀ
Î Ðîçà, òû áîëüíà!
Íåâèäèìûé ÷åðâÿê,
Ëåòÿùèé ÷åðåç øòîðì,
×åðåç êðè÷àùèé ìðàê,
Ïóðïóðíîé ðàäîñòè
Îáèòåëü óæ íàøåë,
Åãî ñëåïàÿ ñòðàñòü
Ñâåðãàåò òâîé ïðåñòîë.
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