Yet each man kills the thing he loves By each let this be heard. Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word. The coward does…
Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard.
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word.
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword.
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
Перевод:
Ведь каждый, кто на свете жил,
Любимых убивал.
Один – жестокостью,
Другой – отравою похвал.
Коварным поцелуем – трус,
А смелый – наповал.
Один убил на склоне лет,
В расцвете сил – другой.
Кто похотью слепой.
А милосердный пожалел:
Сразил своей рукой.