To the Virgins / Robert Herrick

To the Virgins

Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he’s a-getting; The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting.

That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times, still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, buy use your time; And while ye may, go merry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.

אֶל הַבְּתוּלוֹת / רוברט הריק

לִלְקֹט וְרָדִים כָּל עוֹד אֶפְשָׁר,

הַזְּמַן חוֹלֵף-בּוֹרֵחַ;

וּפֶרַח זֶה הַיּוֹם יִצְהַר,

מָחָר יִבֹּל, נַס-רֵיחַ.

פַּנַס מָרוֹם זֶה, מְאוֹר הַפָּז,

כְּכָל שֶׁיַּעְפִּילָה;

יִקְרַב סוֹף הַמֵּרוֹץ; נֶחְפָּז

אֶל שְׁקִיעָתוֹ יַשְׁפִּילָה.

טוֹב תּוֹר הַנֹּעַר מִכֹּל גִּיל,

בְּעוֹד דָּמִים יִגְעָשׁוּ;

וּבִכְלוֹתוֹ, יָבוֹא בְּלִי גִּיל