поэтически верный и передающий настрой перевод стиха, поставленного Пипкой.

Я по русски пишу стихи только здесь, зато на фарси у меня есть уже выпущенный сборник стихов и почти готов второй,
но я не спешу и некоторое количество вирш опубликованных на дари и том же фарси ещё не объединил в книжку.
12 лет назад я выпустил сборник стихов и переводов песен на узбекском в Ташкентском издательстве.

Tropik.
Sydney. Australia.
17 December 2018
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Вот Пипкина перепечатка:

http://forum-zavtra.org/msg.php?id=143

Good Old World

When I was a boy, the moon was a pearl
The sun was a yellow gold
But when I was a man, the wind blew cold
The hills were upside down
But now that I have gone from here
There's no place I'd rather be
Than to float my chances on the tide
Back in the good old world

On October's last, I'll fly back home
Rolling down winding way
And all I've got's a pocket full
Of flowers on my grave
But now summer is gone I remember it best
Back in the good old world

I remember when, she held my hand
And we walked home alone in the rain
How pretty her mouth, how soft her hair
Nothing can be the same

And there's a rose upon her breast
Where I long to lay my head
And her hair was so yellow, and the wine was so red
Back in the good old world

There's a rose upon her breast
Where I long to lay my head
And her hair was so yellow, and the wine is so red
Back in the good old world