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МУЗАПереклавК. Е. МЕНКНҐTHE MUSEO thou most chaste and holy maiden,Of Phoebus tlic beloved yong sister,You took me when I was a childAnd carricd me into the meadow;There on a tomb upon the meadow,You wrapped me in a cloud of grayJust as that freedom in the valleyAnd fondled me and sang your measuresAnd worked your charms . . .And I, meanwhile ,..0 my enchantress ever fair,You helped me wheresoe’er I was,You watched o’er me wheree’er I was,And everywhere, my star of brilliance,You glowed, by evil never spotted,And on the steppe, the barren steppe,In my deepest prisonYou shone there in gleaming raimentLike flower in the field.From the filthy hole of prisonYou flew out to meet meAs a bird, both pure and holy.And above my personYou flew down with pennons goldenAnd you sang so sweetly.You refreshed my thirsty spiritWith the living water.And so 1 livo, above my headWith all your Godlike charm and beauty,You blaze forever, star of heaven.You will receive me, cherubim,Revered six-winged seraphim,My holy counselor adored,My fate which leads me since my youth,Do not forsake me!And a t night69