The Rose

Where is our rose, friends?
Tell if ye may!
Faded the rose, friends,
The Dawn-child of Day.
Ah, do not say,
Such is life’s fleetness!
No, rather say,
I mourn thee, rose, — farewell!
Now to the lily-bell
Flit we away.

Translated by Thomas Budd Shaw

A.S. Pushkin. The Rose. Translated by Thomas Budd Shaw // Alexander Pushkin. Collected Works: Parallel Russian Text and English Translation.
© Электронная публикация — РВБ, 2022—2024. Версия 2.1 от 30 ноября 2023 г.