06 iul.
„Upon Westminster Bridge” de William Wordsworth
| Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still! |
Nu-i loc pe lume mai frumos s-arate! Om bont la suflet trebuie să fie Cel neuimit de-atâta măreţie… Al dimineţii fast peste Cetate E ca un strai; biserici, turn, palate, Mari nave, domuri cu sclipire vie Se-nşiră către slăvi şi spre câmpie; Văzduhu-i pur; tăcute-s, limpezi, toate. Nicicând n-a mai scăldat văi, dealuri, stâncă Aşa frumos, în zori, superbul soare; Nicicând simţii o pace-atât de-adâncă Iar apa curge lin unduitoare; Chiar casele par adormite încă; E-o forţă-n tot, atotliniştitoare! |
| William Wordsworth | traducere de Tudor Dorin |
