Ìóçûêàëüíàÿ ñòðàíè÷êà íàøåãî òóïè÷êà

Ìóçûêàëüíàÿ ñòðàíè÷êà íàøåãî òóïè÷êà

Êýò Ñòèâåíñ, ñàìîå íà÷àëî 70-õ, «Íàñòóïèëî óòðî»

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

Íàñòóïèëî óòðî

Íàñòóïèëî óòðî, êàê ïåðâîå óòðî
׸ðíûé äðîçä çà÷èðèêàë, êàê ïåðâàÿ ïòèöà
Ñëàâà ïåíèþ, ñëàâà óòðó
Ñëàâà âåñåííåé ñâåæåñòè

Ñëàäêèé äîæäü – íîâàÿ îñåíü, îñâåù¸ííàÿ ñîëíöåì ñ íåáåñ
Êàê ïåðâîå âûïàäåíèå ðîñû, íà ïåðâîé òðàâå
Ñëàâà ñëàäîñòè âëàæíîãî ñàäà
Èäèòå è ïðîìî÷èòå ñâîè íîãè

Ìîé - ñîëíå÷íûé ñâåò, ìî¸ - óòðî
Ðîæäåííàÿ îäíèì ñâåòîì, Ýäåí âèäåëà èãðó
Ñëàâüòå ñ âîñòîðãîì êàæäîå óòðî
Áîã - âîññîçäàíèå íîâîãî äíÿ