Thomas Hardy (Томас Гарди (Харди))
Song to Aurore
We’ll not begin again to love, It only leads to pain; The fire we now are master of Has seared us not in vain. Any new step of yours I’m fain To hear of from afar, And even in such may find a gain While lodged not where you are. No: that must not be done anew Which has been done before; I scarce could bear to seek, or view, Or clasp you any more! Life is a labour, death is sore, And lonely living wrings; But go your courses, Sweet Aurore, Kisses are caresome things!
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