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I'd like to be the kind of friend that you have been to me, I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be, I'd like to meet as much to you each minute of the day As you have meant, old friend of mine to me along the way. I'd like to do the big things and the splended thing to you, To brush the grey from out your sky and leave them only blue. I'd like to say the kindly things that I so often heard And feel that I could rose so the way that mine you've stirred. I'd like to give you back the joy that you have given me, Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will never be. I'd like to make you feel so rich as I who travel on Undounted in the darkest hours with you to lean upon. I wishing at your birthday time that I could but repay A portion of the gladness that you've strewn along my way. And could I have one wish this year this only would it be: I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me. |
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Вновь за весенними ручьями Дорога убегает в даль? Пожмёт любимая плечами, Привычно утаит печаль? И может ? даже улыбнётся? И скажет для себя самой: "Он скоро? всё-таки вернётся Однажды навсегда домой?" В пыли дорог века сотрутся? Но после? сквозь Пространства дрожь Мне всё же суждено вернуться? Поскольку? потому что ждёшь? |