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Оксана Гусєва (1991)

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Коментатор Олена Балера, [ 2015-03-15 15:54:11 ],
на сторінці поезії     "Едгар Аллан По - Один"   Гусєва Оксана

Оксано, бажано при публікації перекладу розміщувати і оригінал. Так зацікавленим читачам буде легше прокоментувати Ваші твори чи щось порадити.
Коментатор Оксана Гусєва, [ 2015-03-16 22:11:40 ],
на сторінці поезії     "Едгар Аллан По - Один"   Гусєва Оксана

Дякую за пораду, Олено! Так і зроблю.
Коментатор Оксана Гусєва, [ 2015-03-19 02:31:06 ],
на сторінці поезії     "Роберт Фрост - Вогонь і лід"   Гусєва Оксана

Fire and Ice
BY ROBERT FROST

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Коментатор Оксана Гусєва, [ 2015-03-19 02:34:45 ],
на сторінці поезії     "Едгар Аллан По - Сон уві сні"   Гусєва Оксана

A Dream Within a Dream
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Коментатор Оксана Гусєва, [ 2015-03-19 02:37:16 ],
на сторінці поезії     "Едгар Аллан По - Один"   Гусєва Оксана

Alone
BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—