Loomy Nareez - PILGRIM_№XVII. | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Loomy Nareez
• PILGRIM_№XVII.

On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month was ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Playing in the air,
Playing in the wanton air, wanton air,
Wanton air: Playing in the wanton

Through the velvet leaves the wind
All unseen, gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish had himself the heaven's breath,
Himself, breath,
Had himself the heaven's breath,
The Heaven's breath, Had himself the heaven's
The heaven's breath,

Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
And youth, so apt to pluck
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
Youth, so apt to pluck A sweet.

'Air,' quoth he, 'thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alas! my hand hath sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Sworn, sworn thorn, thee from
Ne'er to pluck thy thorn:
Ne'er to pluck thee from

Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love,
For Jove, for thy love
Turning mortal for thy love
For thy love

Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
And youth, so apt to pluck
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet:
Youth, so apt to pluck A sweet.

Words by William Shakespeare
Music by Pronyaev Nicolay