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Yee wasteful woods
Привычны вы, пустынные леса,
Yee wasteful woods beare witness of my woe
Wherein my plaints did oftentimes abound:
Ye careless birds my sorrowes well do knoe,
They in your songs were wont t‘o make a sound.
Thou pleasant spring canst record like wse beare
Of my designes and sad disparagment,
When thy transparent billows mingled weare
With those downfals wich from mine eies were sent.
The eccho of my still-lamenting cries
From hollow vaults in treble voice resoundeth,
And then into the emptie aire it flies,
And backe againe from whence it came reboundeth.
That Nimphe unto my clamors doth deplie,
Being likewise scorned in love as well as I.
© 2002 Elena and Yakov Feldman