Мысль вслух: саберное.

[rotten_k]

Ну вот просто для тех, кто переводит опенинги.

А то некоторые думают, что, мол, либо смысл, либо размер, либо фонетика.

Обломитесь.



Snowstorm, gloom-filled, heavens drowning,
Wild its snowy whirlwind flies.
Sometimes, like a beast, it's howling,
Sometimes, like a child, it cries,
Sometimes, on our roof's frayed border
Suddenly the straw resounds;
Sometimes, like a lost late wanderer,
On our little window pounds.

Our ramshackle hovel, half-ruined,
Feels so dark, by sadness crushed,
Why do you, my dear old woman,
By the window sit so hushed?
Say, my friend, has the storm's muttering
Worn you out, brought you to heel?
Or are you just somewhat slumbering
As you click your spinning wheel?

Let’s just drink, my dear old friend (from even
When I was a poor, small boy);
Where's your mug now? Drink from grieving
And the heart will feel more joy.
Sing for me young song, how bluebird
Lived in peace beyond the sea.
Sing how one morning a girl heard
As to fetch water went she.

Snowstorm, gloom-filled, heavens drowning,
Wild its snowy whirlwind flies,
Sometimes, like a beast, it's howling,
Sometimes, like a child, it cries.
Let’s just drink, my dear old friend (from even
When I was a poor, small boy);
Where's your mug now? Drink from grieving
And the heart will feel more joy.