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Po |. A. Lirika.
Mn.: Harvest, 1999.
ISBN 985-433-680-8.
OCR Bychkov M.N. mailto:bmn@lib.ru
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I saw thee on thy bridal day -
When a burning blush came o'er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,
The world a'l love before thee:
And in thine eye a kindling light
(Whatever it might be)
Was all on Earth my aching sight
Of Loveliness could see.
That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame -
As such it well may pass -
Though its glow hath raised a fiercer flame
In the breast of him, alas!
Who saw thee on that bridal day,
When that deep blush would come o'er thee,
Though happiness around thee lay,
The world all love before thee.
(1827-1845)
YA pomnyu: ty v den' brachnyj tvoj,
Kak ot styda zardelas' vdrug,
Hot' schast'e bylo pred toboj,
I, ves' lyubov', mir cvel vokrug.
Luchistyj blesk v tvoih ochah
(CHto ni taila ty)
Byl - vse, chto na zemle, v mechtah,
Est' vyshe krasoty!
Byt' mozhet, devich'im stydom
Rumyanec byl - kak znat'! -
No plamenem on vspyhnul v tom,
Kto mog ego ponyat',
Kto znal tebya v den' brachnyj tvoj,
Kogda mogla ty vspyhnut' vdrug,
Hot' schast'e bylo pred toboj,
I, ves' lyubov', mir cvel vokrug.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awak'ning till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow:
Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
'Twere better than the dull reality
Of waking life to him whose heart shall be,
And hath been ever, on the chilly earth,
A chaos of deep passion from his birth!
But should it be - that dream eternally
Continuing - as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood - should it thus be given,
'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven!
For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright
In the summer sky; in dreamy fields of light,
And left unheedingly my very heart
In climes of mine imagining - apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought - what more could I have seen?
'Twas once and _only_ once and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass - some power
Or spell had bound me - 'twas the chilly wind
Came o'er me in the night and left behind
Its image on my spirit, or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly - or the stars - howe'er it was
That dream was as that night wind - let it pass.
I have been happy - tho' but in a dream.
I have been happy - and I love the theme -
Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life -
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality which brings
To the delirious eye more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love - and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.
(1827-1828)
O! bud' vsya yunost' - lish' edinyj son,
Tak, chtoby duh prosnulsya, probuzhden
Luchami Vechnosti, kak my - dennicy,
Bud' etot son - stradan'e bez granicy, -
Ego vse zh predpochel by, chem kosnet'
V real'nosti, tot, kto privyk terpet',
CH'e serdce bylo i prebudet strastno -
Muk haosom zdes', na zemle prekrasnoj!
No byl li b etot, v dolgoj temnote
Proshedshij, son pohozh na grezy te,
Kakimi v detstve byl ya schastliv? - (Ibo
Nebes prekrasnej zhdat' sny ne mogli by!)
Pri letnem solnce ya tonul v mechtah
O Krasote i o zhivyh luchah;
YA serdce otdal, s zharom neustannym,
Moej fantazii dalekim stranam
I sushchestvam, chto sotvoril ya sam...
CHto, bol'shee, moglo predstat' mechtam?
To bylo raz, - lish' raz, - no iz soznan'ya
Ne vyjdet etot mig! - Ocharovan'e
Il' ch'ya-to vlast' gneli menya; l'dyanoj
Vo t'me dyshal li veter nado mnoj,
V moem ume svoj oblik ostavlyaya?
Luna l' zvala, nad snom moim pylaya,
Holodnoj slishkom? - zvezdy l'? - tol'ko tot,
Mig byl kak veter nochi (da projdet!),
YA schastliv byl - pust' v grezah sna pustogo!
YA schastliv byl - v mechtah! - Lyublyu ya slovo
"Mechta"! V ee stocvetnoj vorozhbe,
Kak v mutnoj, zybkoj, prizrachnoj bor'be
S real'nost'yu videnij, toj, chto veshchij
Bred sozdaet, - prekrasnejshie veshchi
Lyubvi i raya est', chto mne srodni,
No chem ne daryat yunoshestva dni!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
3. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow -
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less _gone?_
_All_ that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand -
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep - while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
_One from_ the pitiless wave?
Is _all_ that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
(1827-1849)
Pust' ostanetsya s toboj
Poceluj proshchal'nyj moj!
Ot tebya ya uhozhu,
I tebe teper' skazhu:
Ne oshiblas' ty v odnom, -
ZHizn' moya byla lish' snom.
No mechta, chto snom zhila,
Dnem li, noch'yu li ushla,
Kak viden'e li, kak svet,
CHt_o_ mne v tom, - ee uzh _net_.
_Vse_, chto zritsya, mnitsya mne,
Vse est' tol'ko son vo sne.
YA stoyu na beregu,
Buryu vzorom steregu.
I derzhu v rukah svoih
Gorst' peschinok zolotyh.
Kak oni laskayut vzglyad!
Kak ih malo! Kak skol'zyat
Vse - mezh pal'cev - vniz, k volne,
K glubine - na gore mne!
Kak ih beg mne zaderzhat',
Kak sil'nee ruki szhat'?
Sohranitsya l' hot' odna,
Ili vse voz'met volna?
Ili to, chto zrimo mne,
Vse est' tol'ko son vo sne?
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
In visions of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed -
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream - that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar -
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
(1827-1845)
V viden'yah temnoty nochnoj
Mne snilis' radosti, chto byli;
No grezy zhizni, son dennoj,
Mne szhali serdce - i razbili.
O, pochemu ne pravda dnya -
Sny nochi tem, chej vzglyad
V luchah nebesnogo ognya
Byloe videt' rad!
O son svyatoj! - o son svyatoj! -
SHum prosypalsya v mire tesnom,
No v zhizn' ya shel, vedom toboj,
Kak nekij duh luchom chudesnym.
Pust' etot luch mezh tuch, skvoz' mut',
Trepeshchet inogda, -
CHto yarche ozarit nam put',
CHem Istiny zvezda!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
The happiest day - the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride, and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween
But they have vanish'd long alas!
The visions of my youth have been -
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev'n inherit
The venom thou hast pour'd on me -
Be still my spirit.
The happiest day - the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see - have ever seen
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel - have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd, with the pain
Ev'n then I felt - that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark alloy
And as it flutter'd - fell
An essence - powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
(1827)
Schastlivejshij den'! - schastlivejshij chas! -
CHto serdce ustaloe znalo!
Vy, gordye grezy! nadezhdy na vlast'!
Vse, vse minovalo.
Nadezhdy na vlast'! - Da! ya pomnyu: ob tom
(Mne pamyat' byloe privodit)
Mechtal ya kogda-to vo sne molodom...
No pust' ih prohodyat!
I gordye grezy? - Teper' mne - chto v nih!
Pust' yad ih byl mnoyu usvoen,
No pust' on palit nyne temya drugih.
Moj duh! bud' spokoen.
Schastlivejshij den'! - schastlivejshij chas! -
CHto serdce ustaloe znalo,
Vy, gordye vzglyady! vy, vzglyady na vlast'!
Vse, vse minovalo.
No esli by snova i vzyali vy verh,
No s bredom muchen'ya bylogo, -
Vas, migi nadezhd, ya otverg by, otverg,
CHtob ne muchit'sya snova!
Letite vy s pen'em, no gibel' i strah
Zmeitsya, kak otblesk, po per'yam,
I kaplet s nih yad, sozhigayushchij v prah
Togo, kto vas prinyal s dover'em.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
In spring of youth it was my lot
To haunt of the wide world a spot
The which I could not love the less -
So lovely was the loneliness
Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,
And the tall pines that towered around.
But when the Night had thrown her pall
Upon that spot, as upon all,
And the mystic wind went by
Murmuring in melody -
Then - ah then I would awake
To the terror of the lone lake.
Yet that terror was not fright,
But a tremulous delight -
A feeling not the jewelled mine
Could teach or bribe me to define -
Nor Love - although the Love were thine.
Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining -
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.
(1827-1845)
K ***
Menya, na utre zhizni, vlek
V prostornom mire ugolok,
CHto ya lyubil, lyubil do dna!
Byla prekrasna tishina
Ugryumyh vod i chernyh skal,
CHto bor torzhestvennyj obstal.
Kogda zhe Noch', carica snov,
Na vse brosala svoj pokrov
I vetr tainstvennyj v teni
Roptal melodiyu: usni! -
YA probuzhdalsya vdrug mechtoj
Dlya uzhasa strany pustoj.
No etot uzhas ne byl strah,
Byl trepetnyj vostorg v mechtah:
Ne vyrazit' ego polnej
Za pyshnyj blesk Golkondy vsej,
Za dar Lyubvi - hotya b tvoej!
No Smert' skryvalas' tam, v volnah
Tletvornyh, byl v nih sarkofag -
Dlya vseh, kto stal iskat' by tam
Pokoya odinokim snam,
Kto skorbnoj grezoj - mrachnyj kraj
Preobrazil by v svetlyj raj.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
(1829-1843)
Nauka! ty - ditya Sedyh Vremen!
Menyaya vse vniman'em glaz prozrachnyh,
Zachem trevozhish' ty poeta son,
O korshun! kryl'ya ch'i - vzmah istin mrachnyh!
Tebya lyubit'? i mudroj schest' tebya?
Zachem zhe ty mertvish' ego usil'ya,
Kogda, almazy neba vozlyubya,
On mchitsya vvys', raskinuv smelo kryl'ya!
Diany konej kto ostanovil?
Kto iz lesa izgnal Gamadriadu,
Uslav iskat' priyuta mezh svetil?
Kto vyhvatil iz lona vod Nayadu?
Iz vetok |l'fa? Kto bred letnih grez,
Mezh tamarisov, ot menya unes?
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
O! nothing earthly save the ray
(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,
As in those gardens where the day
Springs from the gems of Circassy -
O! nothing earthly save the thrill
Of melody in woodland rill -
Or (music of the passion-hearted)
Joy's voice so peacefully departed
That like the murmur in the shell,
Its echo dwelleth and will dwell -
Oh, nothing of the dross of ours -
Yet all the beauty - all the flowers
That list our Love, and deck our bowers -
Adorn yon world afar, afar -
The wandering star.
'Twas a sweet time for Nesace - for there
Her world lay lolling on the golden air,
Near four bright suns - a temporary rest -
An oasis in desert of the blest.
Away - away - 'mid seas of rays that roll
Empyrean splendor o'er th' unchained soul -
The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)
Can struggle to its destin'd eminence -
To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode,
And late to ours, the favour'd one of God -
But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm,
She throws aside the sceptre - leaves the helm,
And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,
Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.
Now happiest, loveliest in you lovely Earth,
Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth,
(Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,
Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,
It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)
She look'd into Infinity - and knelt.
Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled -
Fit emblems of the model of her world -
Seen but in beauty - not impeding sight
Of other beauty glittering thro' the light -
A wreath that twined each starry form around,
And all the opal'd air in color bound.
All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed
Of flowers: of lilies such as rear'd the head
On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang
So eagerly around about to hang
Upon the flying footsteps of - deep pride -
Of her who lov'd a mortal - and so died.
The Sephalica, budding with young bees,
Uprear'd its purple stem around her knees:
And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd -
Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd
All other loveliness: its honied dew
(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew)
Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven,
And fell on gardens of the unforgiven
In Trebizond - and on a sunny flower
So like its own above that, to this hour,
It still remaineth, torturing the bee
With madness, and unwonted reverie:
In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf
And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief
Disconsolate linger - grief that hangs her head,
Repenting follies that full long have fled,
Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,
Like guilty beauty, chasten'd, and more fair:
Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light
She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:
And Clytia pondering between many a sun,
While pettish tears adown her petals run:
And that aspiring flower that sprang on Earth -
And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,
Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing
Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king:
And Valisnerian lotus thither flown
From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:
And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!
Isola d'oro! - Fior di Levante!
And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever
With Indian Cupid down the holy river -
Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given
To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven:
"Spirit! that tlwellest where,
In the deep sky,
The terrible and fair,
In beauty vie!
Beyond the line of blue -
The boundary of the star
Which turneth at the view
Of thy barrier and thy bar -
Of the barrier overgone
By the comets who were cast
From their pride, and from their throne
To be drudges till the last -
To be carriers of fire
(The red fire of their heart)
With speed that may not tire
And with pain that shall not part -
Who livest - _that_ we know -
In Eternity - we feel -
But the shadow of whose brow
What spirit shall reveal?
Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace,
Thy messenger hath known
Have dream'd for thy Infinity
A model of their own -
Thy will is done. Oh, God!
The star hath ridden high
Thro' many a tempest, but she rode
Beneath thy burning eye;
And here, in thought, to thee -
In thought that can alone
Ascend thy empire and so be
A partner of thy throne -
By winged Fantasy,
My embassy is given,
Till secrecy shall knowledge be
In the environs of Heaven."
She ceas'd - and buried then her burning cheek
Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek
A shelter from the fervour of His eye;
For the stars trembled at the Deity.
She stirr'd not - breath'd not - for a voice was there
How solemnly pervading the calm air!
A sound of silence on the startled ear
Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere."
Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call
"Silence" - which is the merest word of all.
All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings -
But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high
The eternal voice of God is passing by,
And the red winds are withering in the sky!
"What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run,
Link'd to a little system, and one sun -
Where all my love is folly and the crowd
Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud,
The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath -
(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?)
What tho' in worlds which own a single sun
The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run,
Yet thine is my resplendency, so given
To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven.
Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly,
With all thy train, athwart the moony sky -
Apart - like fire-flies in Sicilian night,
And wing to other worlds another light!
Divulge the secrets of thy embassy
To the proud orbs that twinkle - and so be
To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban
Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"
Up rose the maiden in the yellow night,
The single-mooned eve! - on Earth we plight
Our faith to one love - and one moon adore -
The birth-place of young Beauty had no more.
As sprang that yellow star from downy hours
Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers,
And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain
Her way - but left not yet her Therasaean reign.
High on a mountain of enamell'd head -
Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees,
With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"
What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven -
Of rosy head, that towering far away
Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray
Of sunken suns at eve - at noon of night,
While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light -
Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,
Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall
Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall
Of their own dissolution, while they die -
Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.
A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down,
Sat gently on these columns as a crown -
A window of one circular diamond, there,
Look'd out above into the purple air,
And rays from God shot down that meteor chain
And hallow'd all the beauty twice again,
Save when, between th' Empyrean and that ring,
Some eager spirit flapp'd his dusky wing.
But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen
The dimness of this world: that greyish green
That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave
Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave -
And every sculptur'd cherub thereabout
That from his marble dwelling peered out,
Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche -
Achaian statues in a world so rich?
Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis -
From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss
Of beautiful Gomorrah! O, the wave
Is now upon thee - but too late to save!
Sound loves to revel in a summer night:
Witness the murmur of the grey twilight
That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco,
Of many a wild star-gazer long ago -
That stealeth ever on the ear of him
Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim.
And sees the darkness coming as a cloud -
Is not its form - its voice - most palpable and loud?
But what is this? - it cometh - and it brings
A music with it - 'tis the rush of wings -
A pause - and then a sweeping, falling strain
And Nesace is in her halls again.
From the wild energy of wanton haste
Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart;
And zone that clung around her gentle waist
Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.
Within the centre of that hall to breathe
She paus'd and panted, Zanthe! all beneath,
The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair
And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there!
Young flowers were whispering in melody
To happy flowers that night - and tree to tree;
Fountains were gushing music as they fell
In many a star-lit grove, or moon-lit dell;
Yet silence came upon material things -
Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings -
And sound alone that from the spirit sprang
Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:
"'Neath blue-bell or streamer -
Or tufted wild spray
That keeps, from the dreamer,
The moonbeam away -
Bright beings! that ponder,
With half closing eyes,
On the stars which your wonder
Hath drawn from the skies,
Till they glance thro' the shade, and
Come down to your brow
Like - eyes of the maiden
Who calls on you now -
Arise! from your dreaming
In violet bowers,
To duty beseeming
These star-litten hours -
And shake from your tresses
Encumber'd with dew
The breath of those kisses
That cumber them too -
(O! how, without you. Love!
Could angels be blest?)
Those kisses of true love
That lull'd ye to rest!
Up! - shake from your wing
Each hindering thing:
The dew of the night -
It would weight down your flight;
And true love caresses -
O! leave them apart!
They are light on the tresses,
But lead on the heart.
Ligeia! Ligeia!
My beautiful one!
Whose harshest idea
Will to melody run,
O! is it thy will
On the breezes to toss?
Or, capriciously still,
Like the lone Albatross,
Incumbent on night
(As she on the air)
To keep watch with delight
On the harmony there?
Ligeia! wherever
Thy image may be,
No magic shall sever
Thy music from thee.
Thou hast bound many eyes
In a dreamy sleep -
But the strains still arise
Which _thy_ vigilance keep -
The sound of the rain
Which leaps down to the flower,
And dances again
In the rhythm of the shower -
The murmur that springs
From the growing of grass
Are the music of things -
But are modell'd, alas! -
Away, then my dearest,
O! hie thee away
To springs that lie clearest
Beneath the moon-ray -
To lone lake that smiles,
In its dream of deep rest,
At the many star-isles
That enjewel its breast -
Where wild flowers, creeping,
Have mingled their shade,
On its margin is sleeping
Full many a maid -
Some have left the cool glade, and
Have slept with the bee -
Arouse them my maiden,
On moorland and lea -
Go! breathe on their slumber,
All softly in ear,
The musical number
They slumber'd to hear -
For what can awaken
An angel so soon
Whose sleep hath been taken
Beneath the cold moon,
As the spell which no clumber
Of witchery may test,
The rhythmical number
Which lull'd him to rest?"
Spirits in wing, and angels to the view,
A thousand seraphs burst th' Empyrean thro',
Young dreams still hovering on their drowsy flight -
Seraphs in all but "Knowledge", the keen light
That fell, refracted, thro' thy bounds, afar
O Death! from eye of God upon that star:
Sweet was that error - sweeter still that death -
Sweet was that error - ev'n with us the breath
Of Science dims the mirror of our joy -
To them 'twere the Simoon, and would destroy -
For what (to them) availeth it to know
That Truth is Falsehood - or that Bliss is Woe?
Sweet was their death - with them to die was rife
With the last ecstasy of satiate life -
Beyond that death no immortality
But sleep that pondereth and is not "to be" -
And there - oh! may my weary spirit dwell -
Apart from Heaven's Eternity - and yet how far
from Hell!
What guilty spirit, in what shrubbery dim,
Heard not the stirring summons of that hymn?
But two: they fell: for Heaven no grace imparts
To those who hear not for their beating hearts.
A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover -
O! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over)
Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known?
Unguided Love hath fallen - 'mid "tears of perfect
moan."
He was a goodly spirit - he who fell:
A wanderer by moss-y-mantled well -
A gazer on the lights that shine above -
A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love:
What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,
And looks so sweetly down on Beauty's hair -
And they, and ev'ry mossy spring were holy
To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.
The night had found (to him a night of wo)
Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo -
Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,
And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie.
Here sate he with his love - his dark eye bent
With eagle gaze along the firmament:
Now turn'd it upon her - but ever then
It trembled to the orb of EARTH again.
"lanthe, dearest, see! how dim that ray!
How lovely 'tis to look so far away!
She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
I left her gorgeous halls - nor mourn'd to leave.
That ese - that eve - I should remember well -
The sun-ray dropp'd, in Lemnos, with a spell
On th' Arabesque carving of a gilded hall
Wherein I sate, and on the draperied wall -
And on my eye-lids - O the heavy light!
How drowsily it weigh'd them into night!
On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran
With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan:
But O that light! - I slumber'd - Death, the while,
Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle
So softly that no single silken hair
Awoke that slept - or knew that he was there.
The last spot of Earth's orb I trod upon
Was a proud temple call'd the Parthenon -
More beauty clung around her column'd wall
Than ev'n thy glowing bosom beats withal,
And when old Time my wing did disenthral
Thence sprang I - as the eagle from his tower,
And years I left behind me in an hour.
What time upon her airy bounds I hung
One half the garden of her globe was flung
Unrolling as a chart unto my view -
Tenantless cities of the desert too!
lanthe, beauty crowded on me then,
And half I wish'd to be again of men."
"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee -
And greener fields than in yon world above,
And woman's loveliness - and passionate love."
"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft
Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,
Perhaps my brain grew dizzy - but the world
I left so late was into chaos huri'd -
Sprang from her station, on the winds apart,
And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.
Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar
And fell - not swiftly as I rose before,
But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'
Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!
Nor long the measure of my falling hours,
For nearest of all stars was thine to ours -
Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,
A red Daedalion on the timid Earth.
"We came - and to thy Earth - but not to us
Be given our lady's bidding to discuss:
We came, my love; around, above, below,
Gay fire-fly of the night we come and go,
Nor ask a reason save the angel-nod
_She_ grants to us, as granted by her God -
But, Angelo, than thine grey Time unfurl'd
Never his fairy wing o'er fairier world!
Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes
Alone could see the phantom in the skies,
When first Al Aaraaf knew her course to be
Headlong thitherward o'er the starry sea -
But when its glory swell'd upon the sky,
As glowing Beauty's bust beneath man's eye,
We paus'd before the heritage of men,
And thy star trembled - as doth Beauty then!"
Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away
The night that waned and waned and brought no day.
They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts
Who hear not for the beating of their hearts.
(1829-1845)
"Duh! ty, kto v vysote,
Tam, gde v efire yasnom
Ravno po krasote
Uzhasnoe s prekrasnym!
Gde tverd' zavershena,
Gde gran' orbitam zvezdnym,
Otkuda plyt' dolzhna
Zvezda nazad po bezdnam!
Gde tvoj predel svyatoj,
Nezrimyj lish' kometam,
Nakazannym sud'boj
Za greh pred vechnym svetom,
Nesushchim plamya v dal',
Luch alyj prestuplen'ya
I vechnuyu pechal', -
Vovek bez promedlen'ya!
My znaem: ty - vo vsem!
Ty - v vechnosti: my verim!
No na chele tvoem
I ten' - my chem izmerim?
Druz'ya vesny moej
Hranili ubezhden'e,
CHto vechnosti tvoej
My, v malom, otrazhen'e.
No vse, kak ty reshil;
Zvezda moya daleko.
I put' ej mezh svetil
Tvoe kazalo oko.
Zdes' mne mechtoj vznestis'
K tebe, chto - put' edinyj:
V tvoyu svyatuyu vys'
Ili v tvoi glubiny.
Tvoj rok mne vozveshchen
Fantaziej svyashchennoj,
Poka ne stanet on
Otkryt dlya vsej vselennoj!"
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Should my early life seem,
(As well it might), a dream -
Yet I build no faith upon
The king Napoleon -
I look not up afar
For my destiny in a star:
In parting from you now
Thus much I will avow -
There are beings, and have been
Whom my spirit had not seen
Had I let them pass me by
With a dreaming eye -
If my peace hath fled away
In a night - or in a day -
In a vision - or in none -
Is it therefore the less gone? -
I am standing 'mid the roar
Of a weather-beaten shore,
And I hold within my hand
Some particles of sand -
How few! and how they creep
Thro' my fingers to the deep!
My early hopes? no - they
Went gloriously away,
Like lightning from the sky
At once - and so will I.
So young? ah! no - not now -
Thou hast not seen my brow,
But they tell thee I am proud -
They lie - they lie aloud -
My bosom beats with shame
At the paltriness of name
With which they dare combine
A feeling such as mine -
Nor Stoic? I am not:
In the terror of my lot
I laugh to think how poor
That pleasure "to endure!"
What! shade of Zeno! - I!
Endure! - no - no - defy.
(1829)
9. K***
Prezhnyaya zhizn' predo mnoj
Predstaet, - chto i verno, - mechtoj;
Uzh ya ne grezhu bessonno
O zhrebii Napoleona,
Ne ishchu, ozirayas' okrest,
Sud'by v sochetanii zvezd.
No, moj drug, dlya tebya, na proshchan'e,
Odno ya sbereg priznan'e:
Byli i est' sushchestva,
O kom soznayu ya edva,
Vo sne predo mnoj proshli li
Teni nevedomoj byli.
Vse zh navek mnoj utrachen pokoj, -
Dnem li, - vo t'me l' nochnoj, -
Na yavu l', - v bredu l', - vse ravno ved';
Mne dushu k skorbi gotovit'!
Stoyu u burnyh vod,
Krugom groza rastet;
Hranit moya ruka
Gorst' zernyshek peska;
Kak malo! kak speshat
Mezh pal'cev vse nazad!
Nadezhdy? net ih, net!
Blistatel'no, kak svet
Zarnic, pogasli vdrug...
Tak mne projti, moj drug!
Stol' yunym? - O, ne ver'!
YA - yun, no ne teper'.
Vse skazhut, ya - gordec.
Kto skazhet tak, tot - lzhec!
I serdce ot styda
Stuchit vo mne, kogda
Vse to, chem ya tomim,
Klejmyat klejmom takim!
YA - stoik? Net! Tebe
Klyanus': i v zloj sud'be
Vostorg "stradat'" - smeshon!
On - bleden, skuden - on!
Ne uchenik Zenona -
YA. Net! - No - vyshe stona!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds,
Are lips - and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words -
Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined
Then desolately fall,
O God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall -
Thy heart - thy heart! - I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of the truth that gold can never buy -
Of the baubles that it may.
(1829-1845)
10. K***
Ta roshcha, gde, v mechtah, - chudesnej
|demskih, - pticy bez chisla:
Tvoi usta! i vse te pesni:
Slova, chto ty proiznesla!
Na nebe serdca, - gore! gore! -
Neshchadno zhguch tvoj kazhdyj vzglyad!
I ih ogni, kak zvezdy - more,
Moj duh otravlennyj palyat.
Ty, vsyudu - ty! Kuda ni stupish'!
YA v son speshu, chtob videt' sny:
O pravde, chto nichem ne kupish',
I o bezumstvah, chto dany!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty - the unhidden heart -
The playful maziness of art
In old Alberto's daughter;
But when within thy wave she looks -
Which glistens then, and trembles -
Why, then the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in his heart, as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies -
His heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul-searching eyes.
(1829-1845)
ZHivoj ruchej! Kak yasen ty,
Tvoj beg luchami vyshit,
Tvoj blesk - emblema krasoty,
Dushi, otkrytoj tajnam chuvstv,
Privol'noj prihoti iskusstv,
CHem doch' Al'berto dyshit.
Kogda ona glyadit v tebya,
Drozhish' ty, mnogovoden,
I, detskij lik volnoj drobya,
So mnoj, ruchej, ty shoden;
Kak ty, vbirayu ya v sebya
Ee cherty gluboko,
I ya, kak ty, drozhu, drobya
Dushi vzyskuyushchee oko.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath - little of Earth in it -
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute: -
I mourn not that the desolate
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer by.
(1828-1849)
12. * * *
YA ne skorblyu, chto moj zemnoj udel
Zemnogo malo znal samozabven'ya,
CHto son lyubvi davnishnej otletel
Pered vrazhdoj edinogo mgnoven'ya.
Skorblyu ya ne o tom, chto v bleske dnya
Menya schastlivej nishchij i ubogij,
No chto zhaleesh' ty, moj drug, menya,
Idushchego pustynnoyu dorogoj.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Dim vales - and shadowy floods -
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over.
Huge moons there wax and wane -
Again - again - again -
Every moment of the night -
Forever changing places -
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down - still down - and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be -
O'er the strange woods - o'er the sea -
Over spirits on the wing -
Over every drowsy thing -
And buries them up ojuite
In a labyrinth of light -
And then, how deep! - O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like - almost any thing -
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before -
Videlicet a tent -
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.
(1829, 1845)
Mgla dolov - ten' po krucham -
Les, podobnyj tucham,
CH'i formy brezzhut stranno
V slepyh slezah tumana.
Bessmertnyh lun chreda, -
Vsegda, - vsegda, - vsegda, -
Menyaya mutno vid,
Ushcherb na disk, - bezhit, -
Bezhit, - ulybkoj blednoj
Svet zvezd gasya pobedno.
I, v polnoch' po lune, -
Odna, tumannej vseh
(Ne ta l', chto v vyshine
Vseh dol'she dlila beg),
Nishodit - dolu - dolu -
Svoj centr klonya k prestolu
Gory, na sneg vershin,
Tuman ogromnoj sfery
Skryvaet, - plashch bez mery, -
Son hizhin i ruin,
I les na vsem prostore,
I more, - o! i more!
Vseh duhov, chto skol'zyat,
Vse sushchestva, chto spyat,
Vbiraya polno ih
V labirint luchej svoih,
Kak budto v etot srok
Ih son glubok, - glubok!
Im vskroet den' glaza,
I lunnyj ih pokrov
Vzletit na nebesa
S tyazhelym sevom groz:
On stal - cep' oblakov
Il' zheltyj al'batros,
I ta zhe dnem luna
Im bol'she ne nuzhna,
Kak odeyan'e tajny -
(No kak vse chrezvychajno!)
A atomy luny
Dnem v dozhd' razresheny;
Ne ih li motyl'ki,
Kogda letyat, legki,
V lazur', ah! dlya paden'ya
(Vovek bez dostizhen'ya),
Vo obraze pyl'cy
Prinosyat obrazcy!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-Land!
(1831-1845)
O, Elena, tvoya krasota dlya menya -
Kak Nikejskij chelnok staryh dnej,
CHto, k rodimomu krayu nesya i manya,
Istomlennogo putnika mchal vse nezhnej
Nad volnoj blagovonnyh morej.
Po zhestokim moryam ya bluzhdal, nelyudim,
No klassicheskij lik tvoj, s zagadkoyu grez,
S krasotoj giacintovyh nezhnyh volos,
Ves' tvoj oblik Nayady - vsyu grust', tochno dym,
Razognal - i menya umanila Nayada
K charovan'yu, chto zvalos' - |llada,
I k velich'yu, chto zvalosya - Rim.
Vot, ya vizhu, ya vizhu tebya vdaleke,
Ty kak statuya v nishe okna predo mnoj,
Ty s lampadoj agatovoj v nezhnoj ruke,
O, Psiheya, iz stran, chto celebny toske
I zovutsya Svyatoyu Zemlej!
(1904)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
And the angel Israfel whose heart-
strings are a lute, who has the sweetest
voice of all God's creatures.
- Koran
In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
"Whose heart-strings are a lute;
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy stars (so legends tell)
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.
Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamoured moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven,)
Pauses in Heaven.
And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli's fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings -
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.
But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep thoughts are a duty -
Where Love's a grown-up God -
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.
Therefore, thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live, and long!
The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit -
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervour of thy lute -
Well may the stars be mute!
Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely - flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.
If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.
(1831-1845)
...I angel Izrafel', struny serdca
kotorogo - lyutnya, i u kotorogo iz vseh
sozdanij Boga - sladchajshij golos.
Koran
Na Nebe est' angel, prekrasnyj,
I lyutnya v grudi u nego.
Vseh duhov, pevuchest'yu yasnoj,
Nezhnej Izrafel' sladkoglasnyj,
I, charoj ohvacheny vlastnoj,
Sozvezd'ya napev svoj soglasnyj
Smiryayut, chtob slushat' ego.
Koleblyas' v istome uslady,
Pylaet lyubov'yu Luna;
V pod®yatii vysshem, ona
Vnimaet iz mgly i prohlady.
I bystrye medlyat Pleyady;
CHtob slyshat' tot gimn v Nebesah.
Sem' Zvezd uletayushchih rady
Sderzhat' bystroletnyj razmah.
I shepchut sozvezd'ya, vnimaya,
I sonmy vlyublennyh v nego,
CHto pesnya ego ognevaya
Obyazana lyutne ego.
Poet on, na lyutne igraya,
I struny zhivye na nej,
I b'etsya ta pesnya zhivaya
Sredi neobychnyh ognej.
No angely dyshat v lazuri,
Gde mysli gluboki u vseh;
Polna tam vozdushnyh uteh
Lyubov', vozrashchennaya burej;
I vzory luchistye Gurij
Ispolneny toj krasotoj,
CHto chuvstvuem my za zvezdoj.
Itak, navsegda spravedlivo
Prezren'e tvoe, Izrafel',
K napevam, lishennym poryva!
Dlya tvorchestva strast' - kolybel'.
Vse strojno v tebe i krasivo,
ZHivi, i primi svoj venec,
O, luchshij, o, mudryj pevec!
Vostorzhennost' chuvstv isstuplennyh
Pylayushchim ritmam pod stat'.
Pod muzyku zvukov, spletennyh
Iz dum Izrafelya bessonnyh,
Pod zvon etih strun polnozvonnyh
I zvezdam otradno molchat'.
Vse Nebo tvoe, vse blazhenstvo.
Nash mir - mir vostorgov i bed,
Rascvet nash est' tol'ko rascvet.
I ten' tvoego sovershenstva
Dlya nas oslepitel'nyj svet.
Kogda Izrafelem ya byl by,
Kogda Izrafel' byl by mnoj,
On pesni takoj ne slozhil by
Bezumnoj - pechali zemnoj.
I zvuki, smelee, chem eti,
Znachitel'nej v zvuchnom zavete,
Voznikli by, v plamennom svete,
Nad vseyu nebesnoj stranoj.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapour, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave:
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin moulders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps! - and lo! where lies
Irene, with her Destinies!
Oh, lady bright! can it be right -
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop -
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully - so fearfully -
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lady dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come o'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress!
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all solemn silentness!
The lady sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
Which is enduring, so be deep!
Heaven have her in its sacred keep!
This chamber changed for one more holy,
This bed for one more melancholy,
I pray to God that she may lie
Forever with unopened eye,
While the pale sheeted ghosts go by!
My love, she sleeps! Oh, may her sleep,
As it is lasting, so be deep!
Soft may the worms about her creep!
Far in the forest, dim and old,
For her may some tall vault unfold -
Some vault that oft hath flung its black
And winged pannels fluttering back,
Triumphant, o'er the crested palls,
Of her grand family funerals -
Some sepulchre, remote, alone,
Against whose portal she hath thrown,
In childhood, many an idle stone -
Some tomb from out whose sounding door
She ne'er shall force an echo more,
Thrilling to think, poor child of sin!
It was the dead who groaned within.
(1831-1845)
V Iyune, v polnoch', v mgle skvoznoj,
YA byl pod strannoyu lunoj.
Par usypitel'nyj, rosistyj,
Dyshal ot chashi zolotistoj,
Za kaplej kaplya, shel v prostor,
Na vysotu spokojnyh gor,
Skol'zil, kak muzyka bez slova,
V glubiny dola mirovogo.
Spit na mogile rozmarin,
Spit liliya rechnyh glubin;
Nochnoj tuman pril'nul k ruine!
I glyan'! tam ozero v lozhbine,
Kak by soznatel'no dremlya,
Zasnulo, spit. Vsya spit zemlya.
Spit Krasota! - S dremotoj slita
(Ee okno v prostor otkryto)
Irena, s neyu S_u_deb svita.
O, negi doch'! tut kak pomoch'?
Zachem okno otkryto v noch'?
Zdes' veterki, s vershin drevesnyh,
O charah shepchut neizvestnyh -
Volshebnyj stroj, besplotnyj roj,
Skol'zit po komnate nochnoj,
Volnuya zanaves krasivo -
I strashno tak - i prihotlivo -
Nad szhatoj bahromoj resnic,
CHto nad dushoj sklonilis' nic,
A na stenah, kak ryad videnij,
Trepeshchut zanavesa teni.
Tebya trevogi ne gnetut?
O chem i kak ty grezish' tut?
Pobyv za dal'nimi moryami,
Ty zdes', sredi derev, s cvetami.
Ty strannoj blednosti polna.
Naryad tvoj stranen. Ty odna.
Strannej vsego, prevyshe grez,
Dlina tvoih gustyh volos.
I vse ob®yato tishinoyu
Pod toj torzhestvennoj lunoyu.
Spit krasota! Na dolgij srok
Pust' budet son ee glubok!
Molyu ya Boga, chto nad nami,
Da s neraskrytymi ochami,
Ona zdes' vekovechno spit,
Mezh tem kak roj tenej skol'zit,
I duhi v savanah iz dyma
Idut, drozha, prohodyat mimo.
Lyubov' moya, ty spish'. Usni
Na dolgi dni, na vechny dni!
Pust' myagko cherv' mel'knet v teni!
V lesu, v toj chashche temnookoj,
Pust' svod otkroetsya vysokij,
On mnogo raz zdes' byl otkryt,
Prinyat' rodnyh ee mezh plit -
Da dremlet tam v glushi pustynnoj,
Da primet sklep ee starinnyj,
CH'yu stol' uzorchatuyu dver'
Ne potrevozhit' uzh teper' -
Kuda ne raz, rukoj rebenka,
Brosala kamni - kamen' zvonko,
Sbegaya vniz, metall budil,
I dolgij otklik nahodil,
Kak budto tam, v smertel'noj dali,
Skorbya, usopshie rydali.
(1911)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
_Once_ it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly, from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.
_Now_ each visiter shall confess
The sad valley's restlessness.
Nothing there is motionless.
Nothing save the airs that brood
Over the magic solitude.
Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees
That palpitate like the chill seas
Around the misty Hebrides!
Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven
That rustle through the unquiet Heaven
Uneasily, from morn till even,
Over the violets there that lie
In myriad types of the human eye -
Over the lilies there that wave
And weep above a nameless grave!
They wave: - from out their fragrant tops
Eternal dews come down in drops.
They weep: - from off their delicate stems
Perennial tears descend in gems.
(1831-1845)
_Kogda-to_ zdes' byl yasnyj dol,
Otkuda ves' narod ushel.
On udalilsya na vojnu
I poruchil svoyu stranu
Vniman'yu zvezd storozhevyh,
CHtob noch'yu, s bashen golubyh,
S svoej lazurnoj vysoty,
Oni glyadeli na cvety,
Sredi kotoryh celyj den'
Sverkala, medlya, svetoten'.
_Teper' zhe_ kto by ni prishel,
Uvidit, kak trevozhen dol.
Net bez dvizhen'ya nichego,
Za isklyuchen'em odnogo:
Lish' vetry dremlyut pelenoj
Nad zacharovannoj stranoj.
Ne vetrom dvizhutsya stvoly,
CHto polny zyb'yu, kak valy
Vokrug Gebridskih ostrovov.
I ne dvizheniem vetrov
Gonimy tuchi zdes' i tam,
Po bespokojnym Nebesam.
S utra do vechera, kak dym,
Nesutsya s shorohom gluhim,
Nad t'moj fialok rokovyh,
CHto smotryat sonmom glaz lyudskih,
Nad snegom lilij, chto, kak son,
Hranyat mogily bez imen,
Hranyat, i vzor svoj ne smezhat,
I vechno plachut i drozhat.
S ih aromatnogo cvetka
Bezhit rosa, bezhit veka,
I slezy s tonkih ih steblej -
Kak dozhd' sverkayushchih kamnej.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently -
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free
Up domes - up spires - up kingly halls -
Up fanes - up Babylon-like walls -
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers -
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.
There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye -
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass -
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea -
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.
But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave - there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide -
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow -
The hours are breathing faint and low -
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
(1831-1845)
Zdes' Smert' sebe vozdvigla tron,
Zdes' gorod, prizrachnyj, kak son,
Stoit v uedinen'i strannom,
Vdali na Zapade tumannom,
Gde dobryj, zloj, i luchshij, i zlodej
Priyali son - zabvenie strastej.
Zdes' hramy i dvorcy i bashni,
Iz®edennye siloj dnej,
V svoej nedvizhnosti vsegdashnej,
V nagromozhdennosti tenej,
Nichem na nashi ne pohozhi.
Krugom, gde veter ne dohnet,
V svoem nevozmutimom lozhe,
Zastyla glad' ugryumyh vod.
Nad etim gorodom pechal'nym,
V noch' bezyshodnuyu ego,
Ne vspyhnet luch na Nebe dal'nem.
Lish' s morya, tusklo i mertvo,
Vdol' bashen blednyj svet struitsya,
Mezh kapishch, mezh dvorcov zmeitsya,
Vdol' sten, pronzivshih nebosklon,
Begushchih v vys', kak Vavilon,
Sredi izvayannyh besedok,
Sredi rastenij iz kamnej,
Sredi videnij byvshih dnej,
Sovsem zabytyh naposledok,
Sred' polnyh smutnoj mgloj besedok,
Gde set'yu mramornoj goryat
Fialki, plyushch i vinograd.
Ne otrazhaya nebosvod,
Zastyla glad' ugryumyh vod.
I teni bashen pali vniz,
I teni s bashnyami slilis',
Kak budto vdrug, i te, i te,
Oni povisli v pustote.
Mezh tem kak s bashni - mrachnyj vid! -
Smert' ispolinskaya glyadit.
Ziyaet sumrak smutnyh snov
Razverstyh kapishch i grobov,
S goryashchej, v uroven', vodoj;
No blesk ubranstva zolotoj
Na opochivshih mertvecah,
I brillianty, chto zvezdoj
Goryat u idolov v glazah,
Ne mogut vymanit' volny
Iz etoj vodnoj tishiny.
Hotya by tol'ko zyb' proshla
Po gladkoj ploskosti stekla,
Hotya by veter chut' dohnul
I drozh'yu vlagu shevel'nul.
No net nameka, chto vdali,
Tam gde-to dyshat korabli,
Nameka net na zyb' morej,
Ne strashnyh yasnost'yu svoej.
No chu! Voznikla drozh' v volne!
Pronessya ropot v vyshine!
Kak budto bashni, vdrug osev,
Raz®yali v more sonnyj zev, -
Kak budto ih verhi, vpot'mah,
Probel rodili v Nebesah.
Krasnee zyb' morskih valov,
Slabej dyhanie CHasov.
I v chas, kogda, stenya v volne,
Sojdet tot gorod k glubine,
Priyav ego v svoyu tyur'mu,
Vosstanet Ad, kachaya t'mu,
I ves' poklonitsya emu.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine -
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice, from out the Future cries,
"On! on!" - but o'er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
For, alas! alas! with me
The light of Life is o'er!
No more - no more - no more -
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy grey eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams -
In what ethereal dances,
By what Italian streams.
Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o'er the billow
From me - to titled age and crime
And an unholy pillow -
From Love and from our misty clime
Where weeps the silver willow.
(1833-1849)
19. K ODNOJ IZ TEH, KOTORYE V RAYU
V tebe ya videl schast'e
Vo vseh moih skorbyah,
Kak luch sredi nenast'ya,
Kak ostrov na volnah,
Cvety, lyubov', uchast'e
Cveli v tvoih glazah.
Tot son byl slishkom nezhen,
I ya rasstalsya s nim.
I chernyj mrak bezbrezhen.
Mne shepchut Dni: "Speshim!"
No duh moj beznadezhen,
Bezmolven, nedvizhim.
O, kak tumanna bezdna
Navek pogibshih dnej!
I duh moj bespolezno
Lezhit, drozhit nad nej,
Lazur' nebes bezzvezdna,
I net, i net ognej.
Sady nadezhd bezmolvny,
Im bol'she ne cvesti,
Pechal'no pleshchut volny
"Prosti - prosti - prosti",
Sady nadezhd bezmolvny,
Mne nekuda idti.
I dni moi - tomlen'e,
I noch'yu vse mechty
Iz t'my uedinen'ya
Speshat tuda, gde - ty,
Vozdushnoe viden'e
Nezdeshnej krasoty!
(1895)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
At morn - at noon - at twilight dim -
Maria! thou hast heard my hymn!
In joy and wo - in good and ill -
Mother of God, be with me still!
When the Hours flew brightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky,
My soul, lest it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee;
Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine!
(1833-1849)
Zarej, - dnem, - v vechera gluhie, -
Moj gimn ty slyshala, Mariya!
V dobre i zle, v bede i schast'e,
Celen'e mne - tvoe uchast'e!
Kogda chasy ognem svetali,
I oblaka ne tmili dalej,
CHtob ne bluzhdat' kak piligrim,
YA shel k tebe, ya shel k tvoim.
Vot buri Roka rushat yavno
Moe "teper'", moe "nedavno",
No "zavtra", veruyut mechty,
Razgonyat mrak - tvoi i ty!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary
Of lofty contemplation left to Time
By buried centuries of pomp and power!
At length - at length - after so many days
Of weary pilgrimage and burning thirst,
(Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie),
I kneel, an altered and an humble man,
Amid thy shadows, and so drink within
My very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and glory!
Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld!
Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night!
I feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength -
O spells more sure than e'er Judaean king
Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane!
O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee
Ever drew down from out the quiet stars!
Here, where a hero fell, a column falls!
Here, where the mimic eagle glared in gold,
A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat!
Here, where the dames of Rome their gilded hair
Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle!
Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled,
Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home,
Lit by the wan light of the horned moon,
The swift and silent lizard of the stones!
But stay! these walls - these ivy-clad arcades -
These mouldering plinths - these sad and blackened
shafts -
These vague entablatures - this crumbling frieze -
These shattered cornices - this wreck - this ruin -
These stones - alas! these gray stones - are they all -
All of the famed, and the colossal left
By the corrosive Hours to Fate and me?
"Not all" - the Echoes answer me - "not all!
"Prophetic sounds and loud, arise forever
"From us, and from all Ruin, unto the wise,
"As melody from Memnon to the Sun.
"We rule the hearts of mightiest men - we rule
"With a despotic sway all giant minds.
"We are not impotent - we pallid stones.
"Not all our power is gone - not all our fame -
"Not all the magic of our high renown -
"Not all the wonder that encircles us -
"Not all the mysteries that in us lie -
"Not all the memories that hang upon
"And cling around about us as a garment,
"Clothing us in a robe of more than glory."
(1833-1843)
Proobraz Rima drevnego! Svyatynya,
Roskoshnyj znak vysokih sozercanij,
Ostavlennyj dlya Vremeni vekami
Pohoronennoj pyshnosti i vlasti.
O, nakonec, chrez stol'ko-stol'ko dnej
Razlichnyh stranstvij, zhazhdy nenasytnoj,
(Toj zhazhdy, chto iskala rodnikov
Sokrytyh znanij, zdes', v tebe lezhashchih),
Smirennym izmenennym chelovekom,
Sklonyayus' ya teper' pered toboj,
Sredi tvoih tenej, i upivayus',
Dushoj svoej dushi, v tvoem velich'i,
V tvoej pechali, pyshnosti, i slave.
Obshirnost'! Drevnost'! Pamyat' nekih dnej!
Molchanie! I Noch'! I Bezuteshnost'!
YA s vami - ya vas vizhu v vashej slave -
O, chary, dostovernee teh char,
CHto byli skryty sadom Gefsimanskim, -
Vlastnej teh char, chto, s tihih zvezd struyas',
Voznikli nad Haldeem voshishchennym!
Gde pal geroj, kolonna upadaet!
Gde vilsya zolotoj orel, tam v polnoch' -
Storozhevoj polet letuchej myshi!
Gde Rimskie matrony razvevali
Po vetru set' volos pozolochennyh,
Teper' tam razvevayutsya volchcy!
Gde, razvalyas' na zolotom prestole,
Sidel monarh, teper', kak prividen'e,
Pod sumrachnym luchom luny dvurogoj,
V svoj kamenistyj dom, hranya molchan'e,
Proskal'zyvaet yashcherica skal!
No podozhdi! uzheli eti steny -
I eti svody v setke iz plyushcha -
I eti polustershiesya glyby -
I eti pochernevshie stolby -
I prizrachnye eti arhitravy -
I eti obvalivshiesya frizy -
I etot mrak - razvaliny - oblomki -
I eti kamni - gore! eti kamni
Sedye - neuzheli eto vse,
CHto edkie Mgnoven'ya poshchadili
Iz prezhnego velichiya i slavy,
Hranya ih dlya Sud'by i dlya menya?
"Ne vse - mne vtoryat Otkliki - ne vse.
Prorocheskie zvuki voznikayut
Naveki, gromkim golosom, iz nas,
I ot Razvalin k mudromu stremyatsya,
Kak zvuchnyj golos ot Memnona k Solncu.
My vlastvuem serdcami samyh sil'nyh,
Vliyaniem svoim samoderzhavnym
Blyudem vse ispolinskie umy.
Net, ne bessil'ny sumrachnye kamni.
Ne vsya ot nas ischezla nasha vlast',
Ne vsya volshebnost' svetloj nashej slavy -
Ne vse nas okruzhayushchie chary -
Ne vse v nas zataivshiesya tajny -
Ne vse vospominan'ya, chto, nad nami
Zamedliv, oblekli nas navsegda
V pokrov togo, chto bolee, chem slava".
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Thou wouldst be loved? - then let thy heart
From its present pathway part not!
Being everything which now thou art,
Be nothing which thou art not.
So with the world thy gentle ways,
Thy grace, thy more than beauty,
Shall be an endless theme of praise,
And love - a simple duty.
(1833?-1845)
[FRENSIS SARDZHENT Osgud]
Ty hochesh' byt' lyubimoj? - Ver'
Tomu puti, kotorym shla.
Bud' tol'ko to, chto ty teper',
Ne bud' nichem, chem ne byla.
Tak mil tvoj vzor, tak stroen vid,
Tak vyshe vseh ty krasotoj,
CHto ne hvalit' tebya - to styd,
Lyubit' - lish' dolg prostoj.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Beloved! amid the earnest woes
That crowd around my earthly path -
(Drear path, alas! where grows
Not even one lonely rose) -
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of bland repose.
And thus thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted far-off isle
In some tumultuous sea -
Some ocean throbbing far and free
With storms - but where meanwhile
Serenest skies continually
Just o'er that one bright island smile.
(1835-1845)
Lyubimaya! mezh vseh unynij,
CHto vkrug menya sbiraet Rok
(O, grustnyj put', gde sred' polyni
Vovek ne rascvetet cvetok),
YA vse zh dushoj ne odinok:
Mysl' o tebe tvorit v pustyne
|dem, v kotorom mir - glubok.
Tak! pamyat' o tebe - i v gore
Kak nekij ostrov mezh zybej,
Volshebnyj ostrov v burnom more,
V puchine toj, gde na prostore
Bushuyut volny, vse sil'nej, -
Vse zh nebo, s blagost'yu vo vzore,
Na ostrov l'et potok luchej.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
The ring is on my hand,
And the wreath is on my brow;
Satins and jewels grand
Are all at my command,
And I am happy now.
And my lord he loves me well;
But, when first he breathed his vow,
I felt my bosom swell -
For the words rang as a knell,
And the voice seemed his who fell
In the battle down the dell,
And who is happy now.
But he spoke to re-assure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o'er me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
(Thinking him dead D'Elormie,)
"Oh, I am happy now!"
And thus the words were spoken;
And this the plighted vow;
And, though my faith be broken,
And, though my heart be broken,
Here is a ring, as token
That I am happy now! -
Behold the golden token
That _proves_ me happy now!
Would God I could awaken!
For I dream I know not how,
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken, -
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.
(1836-1849)
Obruchena kol'com,
Vdyhaya ladan sinij,
S girlyandoj nad licom,
V almazah, pod vencom, -
Ne schastliva l' ya nyne!
Moj muzh v menya vlyublen...
No pomnyu vecher sinij,
Kogda mne klyalsya on:
Kak pohoronnyj zvon
Zvuchala rech', kak ston
Togo, kto pal, srazhen, -
Togo, kto schastliv nyne.
Smyagchil on gorech' slez
Moih v tot vecher sinij;
Menya (ne bred li grez?)
Na kladbishche otnes,
Gde mertvecu, mezh roz,
SHepnula ya vopros:
"Ne schastliva l' ya nyne?"
YA poklyalas' v otvet
Emu, v tot vecher sinij.
Pust' mne nadezhdy net,
Pust' very v serdce net,
Vot - apel'sinnyj cvet:
Ne schastliva l' ya nyne?
O, bud' mne suzhdeno
Dlit' son i vecher sinij!
Vse uzhasom polno
Pred tem, chto sversheno.
O! tot, kto mertv davno,
Ne budet schastliv nyne!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,
Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take!
How many memories of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!
How many scenes of what departed bliss!
How many thoughts of what entombed hopes!
How many visions of a maiden that is
No more - no more upon thy verdant slopes!
No _more_! alas, that magical sad sound
Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no
_more_ -
Thy memory no _more_! Accursed ground
Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,
O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!
"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
(1836)
Prekrasnyj ostrov! Luchshij iz cvetov
Tebe svoe dal nezhnoe nazvan'e.
Kak mnogo oslepitel'nyh chasov
Ty budish' v glubine vospominan'ya!
Kak mnogo snov, chej umer yarkij svet,
Kak mnogo dum, nadezhd pohoronennyh!
Videnij toj, kotoroj bol'she net,
Net bol'she na tvoih zelenyh sklonah!
Net bol'she! skorbnyj zvuk, ch'e volshebstvo
Menyaet vse. Za etoj tishinoyu
Net bol'she char! Otnyne predo mnoyu
Ty proklyat sred' rascveta svoego!
O, giacintnyj ostrov! Alyj Zante!
"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace -
Radiant palace - reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion -
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow -
(This - all this - was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
Porphyrogene,
In state his glory well befitting
The ruler of the realm was seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of suprassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn! - for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old-time entombed.
And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the encrimsoned windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh - but smile no more.
(1838-1848)
V samoj zelenoj iz nashih dolin,
Gde obitalishche duhov dobra,
Nekogda zamok stoyal vlastelin,
Kazhetsya, vysilsya tol'ko vchera.
Tam on vzdymalsya, gde Um molodoj
Byl samoderzhcem svoim.
Net, nikogda nad takoj krasotoj
Ne raskryval svoih kryl Serafim!
Bilis' znamena, gorya, kak ogni,
Kak zolotoe sverkaya runo.
(Vse eto bylo - v minuvshie dni,
Vse eto bylo davno.)
Polnyj vozdushnyh svoih peremen,
V nezhnom siyanii dnya,
Veter dushistyj vdol' prizrachnyh sten
Vilsya, krylatyj, chut' slyshno zvenya.
Putniki, stranstvuya v oblasti toj,
Videli v dva ognevye okna
Duhov, idushchih pevuchej chetoj,
Duhov, kotorym zvuchala struna,
Vkrug togo trona, gde vysilsya on,
Bagryanorodnyj geroj,
Slavoj, dostojnoj ego, okruzhen,
Car' nad volshebnoyu etoj stranoj,
Vsya v zhemchugah i rubinah byla
Pyshnaya dver' zolotogo dvorca,
V dver' vse plyla i plyla i plyla,
Iskryas', gorya bez konca,
Armiya Otklikov, dolg chej svyatoj
Byl tol'ko - slavit' ego,
Pet', s porazhayushchej sluh krasotoj,
Mudrost' i silu carya svoego.
No zlye sozdan'ya, v odezhdah pechali,
Napali na divnuyu oblast' carya.
(O, plach'te, o, plach'te! Nad tem, kto v opale,
Ni zavtra, ni posle ne vspyhnet zarya!)
I vkrug ego doma ta slava, chto prezhde
ZHila i cvela v obayan'i luchej,
ZHivet lish' kak ston panihidy nadezhde,
Kak pamyat' edva vspominaemyh dnej.
I putniki vidyat, v tom krae tumannom,
Skvoz' okna, zalitye krasnoyu mgloj,
Ogromnye formy, v dvizhenii strannom,
Diktuemom diko zvuchashchej strunoj.
Mezh tem kak, protivnye, bystroj rekoyu,
Skvoz' blednuyu dver', za kotoroj Beda,
Vynosyatsya teni i shumnoj tolpoyu,
Zabyvshi ulybku, hohochut vsegda.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
There are some qualities - some incorporate things,
That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade.
There is a two-fold _Silence_ - sea and shore -
Body and Soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him berrorless: his name's "No more."
He is the corporate Silence: dread him not!
No power hath he of evil in himself;
But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf,
That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod
No foot of man), commend thyself to God!
(1839-1845)
Est' svojstva - sushchestva bez voploshchen'ya,
S dvojnoyu zhizn'yu: vidimyj ih lik -
V toj sushchnosti dvoyakoj, chej rodnik -
Svet v veshchestve, predmet i otrazhen'e.
Dvojnoe est' _Molchan'e_ v nashih dnyah,
Dusha i telo - berega i more.
Odno zhivet v zabroshennyh mestah,
Vchera travoj porosshih; v yasnom vzore,
Glubokom, kak prozrachnaya voda,
Ono hranit pechal' vospominan'ya,
Sredi rydanij najdennoe znan'e;
Ego nazvan'e: "Bol'she Nikogda".
Ne bojsya voploshchennogo Molchan'ya,
Ni dlya kogo ne skryto v nem vreda.
No esli ty s ego stolknesh'sya ten'yu
(|l'f bezymyannyj, chto zhivet vsegda
Tam, gde lyudskogo ne bylo sleda),
Togda molis', ty obrechen muchen'yu!
(1895)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly -
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Wo!
That motley drama - oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.
But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.
Out - out are the lights - out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.
(1842-1849)
Vo t'me bezuteshnoj - blistayushchij prazdnik,
Ognyami volshebnyj teatr ozaren;
Sidyat serafimy, v pokrovah, i plachut,
I kazhdyj pechal'yu glubokoj smushchen.
Trepeshchut krylami i smotryat na scenu,
Nadezhda i uzhas prohodyat, kak son;
I zvuki orkestra v trevoge vzdyhayut,
Zaoblachnoj muzyki slyshitsya ston.
Imeya podobie Gospoda Boga,
Snuyut skomorohi tuda i syuda;
Nichtozhnye kukly, prihodyat, uhodyat,
O chem-to bormochut, vorchat inogda.
Nad nimi navisli ogromnye teni,
So sceny oni ne ujdut nikuda,
I kryl'yami Kondora veyut besshumno,
S teh kryl'ev nezrimo sletaet - Beda!
Mishurnye lica! - No znaesh', ty znaesh',
Prichudlivoj p'ese zabveniya net.
Bezumcy za Prizrakom gonyatsya zhadno,
No Prizrak skol'zit, kak bluzhdayushchij svet.
Bezhit on po krugu, chtob snova vernut'sya
V ishodnuyu tochku, v svyatilishche bed;
I mnogo Bezumiya v drame uzhasnoj,
I Greh v nej zavyazka, i Schast'ya v nej net.
No chto eto tam? Mezhdu gaerov pestryh
Kakaya-to krasnaya forma polzet,
Ottuda, gde scena okutana mrakom!
To cherv', - skomoroham on gibel' neset.
On korchitsya! - korchitsya! - gnusnoyu past'yu
Ispugannyh gaerov alchno gryzet,
I angely stonut, i cherv' iskazhennyj
Bagryanuyu krov' nenasytno soset.
Potuhli ogni, dogorelo siyan'e!
Nad kazhdoj figuroj, drozhashchej, nemoj,
Kak savan zloveshchij, krutitsya zavesa,
I padaet vniz, kak poryv grozovoj -
I angely, s mest podnimayas', bledneyut,
Oni utverzhdayut, ob®yatye t'moj,
CHto eta tragediya ZHizn'yu zovetsya,
CHto CHerv'-Pobeditel' - toj dramy geroj!
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Ah, broken is the golden bowl! - the spirit flown
forever!
Let the bell toll! - a saintly soul floats on the Stygian
river: -
And, Guy De Vere, hast _thou_ no tear? - weep now
or never more!
See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love,
Lenore!
Come, let the burial rite be read - the funeral song
be sung! -
An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died
so young -
A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died
so young.
"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and ye hated
her for her pride;
And, when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her -
that she died: -
How _shall_ the ritual then be read - the requiem
how be sung
By you - by yours, the evil eye - by yours
the slanderous tongue
That did to death the innocence that died and died
so young?"
_Peccauimus_: - yet rave not thus! but let a Sabbath song
Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!
The sweet Lenore hath gone before, with Hope
that flew beside,
Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have
been thy bride -
For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,
The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her
eyes -
The life still there upon her hair, the death upon
her eyes.
"Avaunt! - avaunt! to friends from fiends the
indignant ghost is riven -
From Hell unto a high estate within the utmost
Heaven -
From moan and groan to a golden throne beside
the King of Heaven: -
Let no bell toll, then, lest her soul, amid its hallowed
mirth
Should catch the note as it doth float up from
the damned Earth!
And I - tonight my heart is light: - no dirge will
I upraise,
But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean
of old days!"
(1844-1849)
O, sloman kubok zolotoj! dusha ushla navek!
Skorbi o toj, chej duh svyatoj - sredi Stigijskih
rek.
Gyui de Vir! Gde ves' tvoj mir? Skloni svoj temnyj
vzor:
Tam grob stoit, v grobu lezhit tvoya lyubov', Linor!
Pust' gor'kij golos panihid dlya vseh zvuchit bedoj,
Pust' slyshim my, kak nam psalmy poyut v toske
svyatoj,
O toj, chto dvazhdy umerla, skonchavshis' molodoj.
"Lzhecy! Vy byli pered nej - dvulikij hor tenej.
I nad bol'noj vash duh nochnoj shepnul:
Umri skorej!
Tak kak zhe mozhet gimn skorbet' i strojno pet' o toj,
Kto vashim glazom byl ubit i vashej klevetoj,
O toj, chto dvazhdy umerla, nevinno-molodoj?"
_Peccavimus_: no ne trevozh' napeva pohoron,
CHtob duh otshedshij toj mol'boj s zemlej byl
primiren.
Ona nevestoyu byla, i Radost' v nej zhila,
Nadev nesvadebnyj ubor, tvoya Linor ushla.
I ty bezumstvuesh' v toske, tvoj duh skorbit o nej,
I svet volos ee gorit, kak by ogon' luchej,
Siyaet zhizn' ee volos, no ne ee ochej.
"Podite proch'! V moej dushe ni t'my, ni skorbi net.
Ne panihidu ya poyu, a pesnyu luchshih let!
Pust' ne zvuchit protyazhnyj zvon ugryumyh
pohoron,
CHtob ne byl svetlyj duh ee tem sumrakom smushchen.
Ot vrazh'ih polchishch gordyj duh, ujdya k druz'yam,
ischez,
Iz bezdny temnyh Adskih zol v vysokij mir
CHudes,
Gde zolotoj gorit prestol Vlastitelya Nebes".
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule -
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of Space - out of Time.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters - lone and dead, -
Their still waters - still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, -
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, -
By the mountains - near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, -
By the grey woods, - by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, -
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls, -
By each spot the most unholy -
In each nook most melancholy, -
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the Past -
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by -
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth - and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
Tis a peaceful, soothing region -
For the spirit that walks in shadow
O! it is an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not - dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, name NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
(1844-1849)
Dorogoj temnoj, nelyudimoj,
Lish' zlymi duhami hranimoj,
Gde nekij chernyj tron stoit,
Gde nekij Idol, Noch' carit,
Do etih mest, v nedavnij mig,
Iz krajnej Fule ya dostig,
Iz toj strany, gde vechno sny, gde char vysokih
postoyanstvo,
Vne Vremeni - i vne Prostranstva.
Bezdonnye doliny, bezbrezhnye potoki,
Provaly i peshchery. Gigantskie lesa,
Ih sumrachnye formy - kak smutnye nameki,
Nikto ne razlichit ih, na vsem drozhit rosa.
Vozvyshennye gory, stremyashchiesya vechno
Obrushit'sya, skvoz' vozduh, v morya bez beregov,
Techeniya morskie, chto zhazhdut beskonechno
Vzmetnut'sya vvys', k pozharu goryashchih oblakov.
Ozera, bespredel'nost' prostorov polnovodnyh,
Nemaya beskonechnost' pustynnyh mertvyh vod,
Zatish'e vod pustynnyh, bezmolvnyh i holodnyh,
So snegom spyashchih lilij, somknutyh v horovod.
Bliz ozernyh zatonov, mezh dalej polnovodnyh,
Bliz etih odinokih pechal'nyh mertvyh vod,
Bliz etih vod pustynnyh, pechal'nyh i holodnyh,
So snegom spyashchih lilij, somknutyh v horovod, -
Bliz gor, - bliz rek, chto v'yutsya, kak vodnye allei,
I ropshchut ele slyshno, zhurchat - zhurchat vsegda, -
Vblizi sedogo lesa, - vblizi bolot, gde zmei,
Gde tol'ko zmei, zhaby, da rzhavaya voda, -
Vblizi prudkov zloveshchih i temnyh yam s vodoyu,
Gde pritailis' Ved'my, chto vozlyubili mglu, -
Vblizi vseh mest proklyatyh, nasyshchennyh bedoyu,
O, v samom nechestivom i gorestnom uglu, -
Tam putnik, uzhasnuvshis', vstrechaet pred soboyu
Zakutannye v savan videniya tenej,
Vstayushchie vnezapno vozdushnoyu tolpoyu,
Vospominan'ya byvshih nevozvratimyh Dnej.
Vse v beloe odety, oni prohodyat mimo,
I vzdrognut, i, vzdohnuvshi, speshat k sedym lesam,
Viden'ya otoshedshih, chto stali ten'yu dyma,
I predany, s rydan'em, Zemle - i Nebesam.
Dlya serdca, ch'i stradan'ya - stolikaya gromada,
Dlya duha, chto pechal'yu i mgloyu okruzhen,
Zdes' tihaya obitel', - uslada, - |l'dorado, -
Lish' zdes' iznemozhennyj s soboyu primiren.
No putnik, prohodyashchij po etim divnym stranam,
Ne mozhet - i ne smeet otkryto videt' ih,
Ih tainstva naveki okutany tumanom,
Oni polu sokryty ot slabyh glaz lyudskih.
Tak hochet ih Vlastitel', naveki vozbranivshij
Priotkryvat' resnicy i podnimat' chelo,
I kazhdyj duh pechal'nyj, v predely ih vstupivshij,
Ih mozhet tol'ko videt' skvoz' dymnoe steklo.
Dorogoj temnoj, nelyudimoj,
Lish' zlymi duhami hranimoj,
Gde nekij chernyj tron stoit,
Gde nekij Idol, Noch' carit,
Iz krajnih mest, v nedavnij mig,
YA doma svoego dostig.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
I dwelt alone
In a world of moan,
And my soul was a stagnant tide
Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing
bride -
Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my
smiling bride.
Ah, less, less bright
The stars of the night
Than the eyes of the radiant girl,
And never a flake
That the vapor can make
With the moon-tints-of purple and pearl
Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded
curl -
Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most
humble and careless curl.
Now Doubt - now Pain
Come never again,
For her sodi gives me sigh for sigh
And all day long
Shines bright and strong
Astarte within the sky,
While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron
eye -
While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.
(1844-1845)
Ispolnen upreka,
YA zhil odinoko,
V zatone moih utomitel'nyh dnej,
Poka belokuraya nezhnaya Lelli ne stala stydlivoj
nevestoj moej,
Poka zlatokudraya yunaya Lelli ne stala schastlivoj
nevestoj moej.
Sozvezdiya nochi
Temnee, chem ochi
Krasavicy-devushki, miloj moej.
I svet bestelesnyj
Vkrug tuchki nebesnoj
Ot laskovo-lunnyh zhemchuzhnyh luchej
Ne mozhet sravnit'sya s volnoyu nebrezhnoj ee
zolotistyh vozdushnyh kudrej,
S volnoyu kudrej svetloglazoj i skromnoj nevesty -
krasavicy, Lelli moej.
Teper' prividen'ya
Pechali, Somnen'ya
Boyatsya pomedlit' u nashih dverej.
I v nebe vysokom
Blistatel'nym okom
Astarta gorit vse svetlej i svetlej.
I k nej obrashchaet prekrasnaya Lelli siyan'e svoih
materinskih ochej,
Vsegda obrashchaet k nej yunaya Lelli fialki svoih
bezmyatezhnyh ochej.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,
weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten
lore -
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came
a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my
chamber door -
'"Tis some visiter", I muttered, "tapping at my chamber
door -
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost
upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought
to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for
the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels
name Lenore -
Nameless _here_ for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple
curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never
felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
"Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber
door -
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber
door; -
This it is and nothing more."
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no
longer,
"Sir", said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness
I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came
rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my
chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened
wide the door; -
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there
wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared
to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave
no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered
word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the
word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me
burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than
before.
"Surely", said I, "surely that is something at my
window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery
explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery
explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt
and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days
of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped
or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my
chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber
door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance
it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou", I said,
"art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from
the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's
Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse
so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy
bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human
being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his
chamber door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his
chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke
only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did
outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered - not a feather then
he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have
flown before -
On the morrow _he_ will leave me, as my Hopes have
flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly
spoken,
"Doubtless", said I, "what it utters is its only stock
and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful
Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one
burden bore -
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never - nevermore.'"
But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird,
and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself
to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird
of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous
bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."
Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable
expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my
bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease
reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light
gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light
gloating o'er,
_She_ shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from
an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the
tufted floor.
"Wretch", I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these
angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories
of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost
Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still,
if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee
here ashore
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land
enchanted -
On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I
implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me -
tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird
or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that
God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant
Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels
name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels
name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!"
I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's
Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul
hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above
my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form
from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is
sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber
door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that
is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his
shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating
on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!
(1844-1849)
Pogruzhennyj v skorb' nemuyu
i ustalyj, v noch' gluhuyu,
Raz, kogda ponik v dremote
ya nad knigoj odnogo
Iz zabytyh mirom znanij,
knigoj polnoj obayanij, -
Stuk donessya, stuk nezhdannyj
v dveri doma moego:
"|to putnik postuchalsya
v dveri doma moego,
Tol'ko putnik -
bol'she nichego".
V dekabre - ya pomnyu - bylo
eto polnoch'yu unyloj.
V ochage pod peplom ugli
razgoralis' inogda.
Grudy knig ne utolyali
ni na mig moej pechali -
Ob utrachennoj Lenore,
toj, ch'e imya navsegda -
V sonme angelov - Lenora,
toj, ch'e imya navsegda
V etom mire sterlos' -
bez sleda.
Ot dyhan'ya nochi burnoj
zanaveski shelk purpurnyj
SHelestel, i neponyatnyj
strah rozhdalsya ot vsego.
Dumal, serdce uspokoyu,
vse eshche tverdil poroyu:
"|to gost' stuchitsya robko
v dveri doma moego,
Zapozdalyj gost' stuchitsya
v dveri doma moego,
Tol'ko gost' -
i bol'she nichego!"
I kogda preodolelo
serdce strah, ya molvil smelo:
"Vy prostite mne, obidet'
ne hotel ya nikogo;
YA na mig usnul trevozhno:
slishkom tiho, ostorozhno, -
Slishkom tiho vy stuchalis'
v dveri doma moego..."
I otkryl togda ya nastezh'
dveri doma moego -
Mrak nochnoj, -
i bol'she nichego.
Vse, chto duh moj volnovalo,
vse, chto snilos' i smushchalo,
Do sih por ne poseshchalo
v etom mire nikogo.
I ni golosa, ni znaka -
iz tainstvennogo mraka...
Vdrug "Lenora!" prozvuchalo
bliz zhilishcha moego...
Sam shepnul ya eto imya,
i prosnulos' ot nego
Tol'ko eho -
bol'she nichego.
No dusha moya gorela,
pritvoril ya dver' nesmelo.
Stuk opyat' razdalsya gromche;
ya podumal: "Nichego,
|to stuk v okne sluchajnyj,
nikakoj zdes' netu tajny:
Posmotryu i uspokoyu
trepet serdca moego,
Uspokoyu na mgnoven'e
trepet serdca moego.
|to veter, -
bol'she nichego".
YA otkryl okno, i strannyj
gost' polnochnyj, gost' nezhdannyj,
Voron carstvennyj vletaet;
ya priveta ot nego
Ne dozhdalsya. No otvazhno, -
kak hozyain, gordo, vazhno
Poletel on pryamo k dveri,
k dveri doma moego,
I vsporhnul na byust Pallady,
sel tak tiho na nego,
Tiho sel, -
i bol'she nichego.
Kak ni grustno, kak ni bol'no, -
ulybnulsya ya nevol'no
I skazal: "Tvoe kovarstvo
pobedim my bez truda,
No tebya, moj gost' zloveshchij,
Voron drevnij. Voron veshchij,
K nam s predelov vechnoj Nochi
priletayushchij syuda,
Kak zovut v strane, otkuda
priletaesh' ty syuda?"
I otvetil Voron:
"Nikogda".
Govorit tak yasno ptica,
ne mogu ya nadivit'sya.
No kazalos', chto nadezhda
ej navek byla chuzhda.
Tot ne zhdi sebe otrady,
v ch'em domu na byust Pallady
Syadet Voron nad dveryami;
ot neschast'ya nikuda, -
Tot, kto Vorona uvidel, -
ne spasetsya nikuda,
Vorona, ch'e imya:
"Nikogda".
Govoril on eto slovo
tak pechal'no, tak surovo,
CHto, kazalos', v nem vsyu dushu
izlival; i vot, kogda
Nedvizhim na izvayan'i
on sidel v nemom molchan'i,
YA shepnul: "Kak schast'e, druzhba
uleteli navsegda,
Uletit i eta ptica
zavtra utrom navsegda".
I otvetil Voron:
"Nikogda".
I skazal ya, vzdrognuv snova:
"Verno molvit' eto slovo
Nauchil ego hozyain
v dni tyazhelye, kogda
On presleduem byl Rokom,
i v neschast'e odinokom,
Vmesto pesni lebedinoj,
v eti dolgie goda
Dlya nego byl ston edinyj
v eti grustnye goda -
Nikogda, - uzh bol'she
nikogda!"
Tak ya dumal i nevol'no
ulybnulsya, kak ni bol'no.
Povernul tihon'ko kreslo
k byustu blednomu, tuda,
Gde byl Voron, pogruzilsya
v barhat kresel i zabylsya...
"Strashnyj Voron, moj uzhasnyj
gost', - podumal ya togda -
Strashnyj, drevnij Voron, gore
vozveshchayushchij vsegda,
CHto zhe znachit krik tvoj:
"Nikogda"?
Ugadat' starayus' tshchetno;
smotrit Voron bezotvetno.
Svoj goryashchij vzor mne v serdce
zaronil on navsegda.
I v razdum'i nad zagadkoj,
ya ponik v dremote sladkoj
Golovoj na barhat, lampoj
ozarennyj. Nikogda
Na lilovyj barhat kresel,
kak v schastlivye goda,
Ej uzh ne sklonyat'sya -
nikogda!
I kazalos' mne: struilo
dym nezrimoe kadilo,
Prileteli Serafimy,
shelesteli inogda
Ih shagi, kak dunoven'e:
"|to Bog mne shlet zabven'e!
Pej zhe sladkoe zabven'e,
pej, chtob v serdce navsegda
Ob utrachennoj Lenore
sterlas' pamyat' - navsegda!..
I skazal mne Voron:
"Nikogda".
"YA molyu, prorok zloveshchij,
ptica ty il' demon veshchij,
Zloj li Duh tebya iz Nochi,
ili vihr' zanes syuda
Iz pustyni mertvoj, vechnoj,
beznadezhnoj, beskonechnoj, -
Budet li, molyu, skazhi mne,
budet li hot' tam, kuda
Snizojdem my posle smerti, -
serdcu otdyh navsegda?"
I otvetil Voron:
"Nikogda".
"YA molyu, prorok zloveshchij,
ptica ty il' demon veshchij,
Zaklinayu nebom. Bogom,
otvechaj, v tot den', kogda
YA |dem uvizhu dal'nej,
obnimu l' dushoj pechal'noj
Dushu svetluyu Lenory,
toj, ch'e imya navsegda
V sonme angelov - Lenora,
luchezarnoj navsegda?"
I otvetil Voron:
"Nikogda".
"Proch'! - voskliknul ya, vstavaya,
demon ty il' ptica zlaya.
Proch'! - vernis' v predely Nochi,
chtoby bol'she nikogda
Ni odno iz per'ev chernyh,
ne napomnilo pozornyh,
Lzhivyh slov tvoih! Ostav' zhe
byust Pallady navsegda,
Iz dushi moej tvoj obraz
ya istorgnu navsegda!"
I otvetil Voron:
"Nikogda".
I sidit, sidit s teh por on
tam, nad dver'yu chernyj Voron,
S byusta blednogo Pallady
ne ischeznet nikuda.
U nego takie ochi,
kak u Zlogo Duha nochi,
Snom ob®yatogo; i lampa
ten' brosaet. Navsegda
K etoj teni chernoj pticy
prigvozhdennyj navsegda, -
Ne vospryanet duh moj -
nikogda!
(1890)
Perevod Dm. Merezhkovskogo
VALENTINE'S EVE. 1846
For her these lines are penned, whose luminous eyes,
Bright and expressive as the stars of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name that, nestling, lies
Upon this page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly these words, which hold a treasure
Divine - a talisman, an amulet
That must be worn _at heart_. Search well the measure -
The words - the letters themselves. Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor.
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre
If one could merely understand the plot.
En written upon the page on which are peering
Such eager eyes, there lies, I say, _perdu_,
A well-known name oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets - as the name is a poet's too.
Its letters, although naturally lying -
Like the knight Pinto (Mendez Ferdinando) -
Still form a synonym for truth. Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle though you do the best
you do.
E.A.P.
_F_antaziya - dlya toj, chej vzor ognistyj - tajna!
(P_r_i nem nam kazhetsya, chto zvezdy Ledy - dym).
Zd_e_s' vstretit'sya dano, kak budto by sluchajno,
V og_n_e moih stihov, ej s imenem svoim.
Kto v_s_motritsya v slova, tot obretet v nih chudo:
Da, tal_i_sman zhivoj! da, divnyj amulet!
Hochu na _s_erdce ya ego nosit'! Povsyudu
Ishchite zhe! _S_tihi tayat v sebe otvet.
O, gore, poz_a_byt' hot' slog odin. Nagrada
Togda pote_r_yana. A mezhdu tem dana
Ne tajna Gor_d_iya: rubit' mechom ne nado!
Net! S krajnej _zh_azhdoyu vnikajte v pis'mena!
Stranica, chto t_e_per' tvoi vzor, goryashchij svetom,
Obhodit medlen_n_o, uzhe tait v stihah
Tri slova slados_t_nyh, znakomyh vsem poetam,
Poeta imya to, velik_o_e v vekah!
I pust' obmanchivy v_s_egda vse bukvy (bol'no
Soznat'sya) ah, pust' l_g_ut, kak Mendes Ferdinand, -
Sinonim istiny tut zv_u_ki!.. No dovol'no.
Vam ne ponyat' ee, - girlyan_d_a iz girlyand.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Of all who hail thy presence as the morning -
Of all to whom thine absence is the night -
The blotting utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun - of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope - for life - ah! above all,
For the resurrection of deep-buried faith
In Truth - in Virtue - in Humanity -
Of all who, on Despair's unhallowed bed
Lying down to die, have suddenly arisen
At thy soft-murmured words, "Let there be light!"
At the soft-murmured words that were fulfilled
In the seraphic glancing of thine eyes -
Of all who owe thee most - whose gratitude
Nearest resembles worship - oh, remember
The truest - the most fervently devoted,
And think that these weak lines are written by him -
By him who, as he pens them, thrills to think
His spirit is communing with an angel's.
(1847)
34. * * *
Iz vseh, komu tebya uvidet' - utro,
Iz vseh, komu tebya ne videt' - noch',
Polnejshee ischeznoven'e solnca,
Iz®yatogo iz vysoty Nebes, -
Iz vseh, kto ezhechasno, so slezami,
Tebya blagoslovlyaet za nadezhdu,
Za zhizn', za to, chto bolee, chem zhizn',
Za vozrozhden'e very shoronennoj,
Dover'ya k Pravde, very v CHelovechnost', -
Iz vseh, chto, umiraya, prilegli
Na zhestkij odr Otchayan'ya nemogo
I vdrug vskochili, golos tvoj uslyshav,
Prizyvno-nezhnyj zov: "Da budet svet!", -
Prizyvno-nezhnyj golos, voploshchennyj
V tvoih glazah, o, svetlyj serafim, -
Iz vseh, kto pred toboyu tak obyazan,
CHto molyatsya oni, blagodarya, -
O, vspomyani togo, kto vseh vernee,
Kto polon samoj plamennoj mol'boj,
Podumaj serdcem, eto on vzyvaet
I, sozdavaya beglost' etih strok,
Trepeshchet, soznavaya, chto dushoyu
On s angelom nebesnym govorit.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained the "power of words" - denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue;
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words - two foreign soft dissyllables -
Italian tones made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill" -
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even the seraph harper, Israfel,
Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures",
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write - I cannot speak or think,
Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams,
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates - thee only.
[1847]
35. * * *
Nedavno tot, kto pishet eti stroki,
Pred razumom bezumno preklonyayas',
Provozglashal ideyu "sily slov" -
On otrical, raz navsegda, vozmozhnost',
CHtob v razume lyudskom voznikla mysl'
Vne vyrazhen'ya yazyka lyudskogo:
I vot, kak by smeyas' nad pohval'boj,
Dva slova - chuzhezemnyh - polnoglasnyh,
Dva slova ital'yanskie, iz zvukov
Takih, chto tol'ko angelam sheptat' ih,
Kogda oni zagrezyat pod lunoj,
"Sredi rosy, visyashchej nad holmami
Germonskimi, kak cep' iz zhemchugov",
V ego glubokom serdce probudili
Kak by eshche nemyslennye mysli,
CHto sushchestvuyut lish' kak dushi myslej,
Bogache, o, bogache, i strannee,
Bezumnej teh videnij, chto mogli
Nadeyat'sya vozniknut' v iz®yasnen'i
Na arfe serafima Izrafelya
("CHto mezh sozdanij Boga tak pevuch").
A ya! Mne izmenili zaklinan'ya.
Pero bessil'no padaet iz ruk.
S tvoim prekrasnym imenem, kak s mysl'yu,
Toboj mne dannoj, - ne mogu pisat',
Ni chuvstvovat' - uvy - ne chuvstvo eto.
Nedvizhno tak stoyu na zolotom
Poroge, pered zamkom snovidenij,
Raskrytym shiroko, - glyadya v smushchen'i
Na pyshnost' raskryvayushchejsya dali,
I s trepetom vstrechaya, vpravo, vlevo,
I vdol' vsego dalekogo puti,
Sredi tumanov, purpurom sogretyh,
Do samogo konca - odnu tebya.
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere -
The leaves they were withering and sere:
It was night, in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year:
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir: -
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul -
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriae rivers that roll -
As the lavas that restlessly roll
Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek,
In the ultimate climes of the Pole -
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek,
In the realms of the Boreal Pole.
Our talk had been serious and sober,
But our thoughts they were palsied and sere
Our memories were treacherous and sere;
For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year -
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)
We noted not the dim lake of Auber,
(Though once we had journeyed down here)
We remembered not the dank tarn of Auber,
Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
And now, as the night was senescent,
And star-dials pointed to morn -
As the star-dials hinted of morn -
At the end of our path a liquescent
And nebulous lustre was born,
Out of which a miraculous crescent
Arose with a duplicate horn -
Astarte's bediamonded crescent,
Distinct with its duplicate horn.
And I said - "She is warmer than Dian;
She rolls through an ether of sighs -
She revels in a region of sighs.
She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion,
To point us the path to the skies -
To the Lethean peace of the skies -
Come up, in despite of the Lion,
To shine on us with her bright eyes -
Come up, through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."
But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said - "Sadly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust -
Ah, hasten! - ah, let us not linger!
Ah, fly! - let us fly! - for we must."
In terror she spoke; letting sink her
Wings till they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed; letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.
I replied - "This is nothing but dreaming.
Let us on, by this tremulous light!
Let us bathe in this crystalline light!
Its Sibyllic splendor is beaming
With Hope and in Beauty to-night -
See! - it flickers up the sky through the night!
Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming
And be sure it will lead us aright -
We surely may trust to a gleaming
That cannot but guide us aright
Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night."
Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom -
And conquered her scruples and gloom;
And we passed to the end of the vista -
But were stopped by the door of a tomb -
By the door of a legended tomb: -
And I said - "What is written, sweet sister,
On the door of this legended tomb?"
She replied - "Ulalume - Ulalume! -
'T is the vault of thy lost Ulalume!"
Then my heart it grew ashen and sober
As the leaves that were crisped and sere -
As the leaves that were withering and sere -
And I cried - "It was surely October,
On _this_ very night of last year,
That I journeyed - I journeyed down here! -
That I brought a dread burden down here -
On this night, of all nights in the year,
Ah, what demon hath tempted me here?
Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber -
This misty mid region of Weir: -
Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber -
This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir."
Said we, then - the two, then - "Ah, can it
Have been that the woodlandish ghouls -
The pitiful, the merciful ghouls,
To bar up our way and to ban it
From the secret that lies in these wolds -
From the thing that lies hidden in these wolds
Have drawn up the spectre of a planet
From the limbo of lunary souls -
This sinfully scintillant planet
From the Hell of the planetary souls?"
(1847-1849)
Skorb' i pepel byl cvet nebosvoda,
List'ya suhi i v forme sekir,
List'ya skryucheny v forme sekir.
Moego nezabvennogo goda,
Byl oktyabr', i byl sumrachen mir.
To byl kraj, gde spyat Obera vody,
To byl dymno-tumannyj Uir, -
Les, gde ozera Obera vody,
Ved'm lyubimaya oblast' - Uir.
Kiparisov alleej, kak strannik,
Tam ya shel s Psiheej vdvoem,
YA s dushoyu svoej shel vdvoem,
Mrachnoj dumy izmuchennyj strannik.
Reki myslej katilis' ognem,
Slovno lava katilas' ognem,
Slovno sernye reki, chto YAnik
L'et u polyusa v sne ledyanom,
CHto na severnom polyuse YAnik
So stonom l'et podo l'dom.
Razgovor nash byl - skorb' bez ishoda,
Kazhdyj pomysl, kak vzmahi sekir,
Pamyat' srezana vzmahom sekir:
My ne pomnili mesyaca, goda
(Ah, mezh godami strashnogo goda!),
My zabyli, chto v sumrake mir,
CHto poblizosti Obera vody
(Hot' kogda-to vhodili v Uir!),
CHto zdes' ozera Obera vody,
Les i oblast' koldunij - Uir!
Dali delalis' bledny i sery,
I zarya byla yavno blizka,
Po kadranu sozvezdij - blizka,
Par prozrachnyj vstaval, polnya sfery,
Ozaryaya tropu i luga;
Vne ego polumesyac Ashery
Stranno podnyal dvojnye roga,
Polumesyac almaznoj Ashery
CHetko podnyal dvojnye roga.
YA skazal: "On nezhnee Diany.
On na skorbnyh efirnyh putyah,
Veselitsya na skorbnyh putyah.
On uvidel v serdcah nashih rany,
Nashi slezy na blednyh shchekah;
On zovet nas v volshebnye strany,
Skvoz' sozvezdie L'va v nebesah -
K miru Lety vlechet v nebesah.
On voshodit v blazhennye strany
I nas manit, s lyubov'yu v ochah,
Mimo logova L'va, skvoz' tumany,
Manit k svetu s lyubov'yu v ochah".
No, podnyavshi palec, Psiheya
Prosheptala: "On stranen vdali!
YA ne veryu zvezde, chto vdali!
O speshim! o bezhim! o skoree!
O bezhim, chtob bezhat' my mogli!"
Govorila, drozha i bledneya,
Uroniv svoi kryl'ya v pyli,
V agonii rydala, bledneya
I vlacha svoi kryl'ya v pyli,
Beznadezhno vlacha ih v pyli.
YA skazal: "|to tol'ko mechtan'e!
Daj idti nam v drozhashchem ogne,
Iskupat'sya v kristal'nom ogne.
Tak, v sibillinom etom siyan'i,
Krasota i nadezhda na dne!
Posmotri! Svet plyvet k vyshine!
O, uveruem v eto mercan'e
I emu otdadimsya vpolne!
Da, uveruem v eto mercan'e,
I za nim vozletim k vyshine,
CHerez noch' - k zolotoj vyshine!"
I Psiheyu, - shepcha, - celoval ya,
Uspokaival drozh' ee dum,
Pobezhdal nedoverie dum,
I svoj put' s nej vdvoem prodolzhal ya.
No vnezapno, vysok i ugryum,
Sarkofag, i vysok i ugryum,
S epitafiej dver' - uvidal ya.
I nevol'no, smushchen i ugryum,
"CHto za nadpis' nad dver'yu?" - skazal ya.
Mne v otvet: "YUlalyum! YUlalyum!
To - mogila tvoej YUlalyum!"
Stalo serdce - skorb' bez ishoda,
Kazhdyj pomysl - kak vzmahi sekir,
Pamyat' - groznye vzmahi sekir.
YA vskrichal: "Pomnyu proshlogo goda
|tu noch', etot mesyac, ves' mir!
Pomnyu: ya zhe, s toskoj bez ishoda,
Noshu strashnuyu vnes v etot mir
(Noch' nochej togo strashnogo goda!).
CHto za demon privel nas v Uir!
Tak! to - mrachnogo Obera vody,
To - vsegda tumannyj Uir!
Top' i ozera Obera vody,
Les i oblast' koldunij - Uir!"
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
"Seldom we find", says Solomon Don Dunce,
"Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet.
Through all the flimsy things we see at once
As easily as through a Naples bonnet -
Trash of all trash! - how _can_ a lady don it?
Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff -
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it?
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.
The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles - ephemeral and _so_ transparent -
But _this is_, now, - you may depend upon it -
Stable, opaque, immortal - all by dint
Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.
(1847)
"_S_yskat', - tak molvil Solomon Durak,
N_a_m ne legko v sonete pol-idei.
I ch_r_ez pustoe vidim my yasnee,
CHem _r_ybin chrez neapol'skij kolpak.
Suet_a_ suet! On ne pod silu damam,
I vse zh, _a_h! rifm Petrarki tyazhelej.
Iz fili_n_a puh legkij, veter, vzvej, -
I budet o_n_, naverno, tem zhe samym".
Navernyak_a_ tot Solomon byl prav;
Smysl ne ve_l_ik liricheskih zabav, -
CHto kolpaki _i_l' puzyri iz myla!
No za sonetom _u_ menya est' sila,
Bessmerten mo_j_, kak budto temnyj, stih:
YA imya pomestil v slovah moih!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
_What_ a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the Heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
_What_ a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight! -
From the molten-golden notes
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells
_What_ a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! - how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells! -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
_What_ a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of Night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire -
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire
And a resolute endeavor
Now - now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of despair!
How they clang and clash and roar!
What a horror they outpour
In the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
By the twanging
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows: -
Yes, the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
_What_ a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy meaning of the tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple
All alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Fell a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human,
They are Ghouls: -
And their king it is who tolls: -
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls
A Paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the Paean of the bells!
And he dances and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the Paean of the bells -
Of the bells: -
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the sobbing of the bells: -
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells: -
To the tolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
(1849)
38. KOLOKOLXCHIKI I KOLOKOLA
Slyshish', sani mchatsya v ryad,
Mchatsya v ryad!
Kolokol'chiki zvenyat,
Serebristym legkim zvonom sluh nash sladostno tomyat,
|tim pen'em i guden'em o zabven'i govoryat.
O, kak zvonko, zvonko, zvonko,
Tochno zvuchnyj smeh rebenka,
V yasnom vozduhe nochnom
Govoryat oni o tom,
CHto za dnyami zabluzhden'ya
Nastupaet vozrozhden'e,
CHto volshebno naslazhden'e - naslazhden'e nezhnym snom.
Sani mchatsya, mchatsya v ryad,
Kolokol'chiki zvenyat,
Zvezdy slushayut, kak sani, ubegaya, govoryat,
I, vnimaya im, goryat,
I mechtaya, i blistaya, v nebe duhami paryat;
I izmenchivym siyan'em
Molchalivym obayan'em,
Vmeste s zvonom, vmeste s pen'em, o zabven'i govoryat.
Slyshish' k svad'be zvon svyatoj,
Zolotoj!
Skol'ko nezhnogo blazhenstva v etoj pesne molodoj!
Skvoz' spokojnyj vozduh nochi
Slovno smotryat ch'i-to ochi
I blestyat,
I v volny pevuchih zvukov na lunu oni glyadyat.
Iz prizyvnyh divnyh kelij,
Polny skazochnyh veselij,
Narastaya, upadaya, bryzgi svetlye letyat.
Vnov' potuhnut, vnov' blestyat,
I ronyayut svetlyj vzglyad
Na gryadushchee, gde dremlet bezmyatezhnost' nezhnyh snov.
Vozveshchaemyh soglas'em zolotyh kolokolov!
Slyshish', voyushchij nabat,
Tochno stonet mednyj ad!
|ti zvuki, v dikoj muke, skazku uzhasov tverdyat.
Tochno molyat im pomoch',
Krik kidayut pryamo v noch',
Pryamo v ushi temnoj nochi
Kazhdyj zvuk,
To dlinnee, to koroche,
Vyklikaet svoj ispug, -
I ispug ih tak velik,
Tak bezumen kazhdyj krik,
CHto razorvannye zvony, nesposobnye zvuchat',
Mogut tol'ko bit'sya, vit'sya, i krichat', krichat', krichat'!
Tol'ko plakat' o poshchade,
I k pylayushchej gromade
Vopli skorbi obrashchat'!
A mezh tem ogon' bezumnyj,
I gluhoj i mnogoshumnyj,
Vse gorit,
To iz okon, to po kryshe,
Mchitsya vyshe, vyshe, vyshe,
I kak budto govorit:
YA hochu
Vyshe mchat'sya, razgorat'sya, vstrechu lunnomu luchu,
Il' umru, il' totchas-totchas vplot' do mesyaca vzlechu!
O, nabat, nabat, nabat,
Esli b ty vernul nazad
|tot uzhas, eto plamya, etu iskru, etot vzglyad,
|tot pervyj vzglyad ognya,
O kotorom ty veshchaesh', s plachem, s voplem, i zvenya!
A teper' nam net spasen'ya,
Vsyudu plamya i kipen'e,
Vsyudu strah i vozmushchen'e!
Tvoj prizyv,
Dikih zvukov nesoglasnost'
Vozveshchaet nam opasnost',
To rastet beda gluhaya, to spadaet, kak priliv!
Sluh nash chutko lovit volny v peremene zvukovoj,
Vnov' spadaet, vnov' rydaet medno-stonushchij priboj!
Pohoronnyj slyshen zvon,
Dolgij zvon!
Gor'koj skorbi slyshny zvuki, gor'koj zhizni konchen son.
Zvuk zheleznyj vozveshchaet o pechali pohoron!
I nevol'no my drozhim,
Ot zabav svoih speshim
I rydaem, vspominaem, chto i my glaza smezhim.
Neizmenno-monotonnyj,
|tot vozglas otdalennyj,
Pohoronnyj tyazhkij zvon,
Tochno ston,
Skorbnyj, gnevnyj,
I plachevnyj,
Vyrastaet v dolgij gul,
Vozveshchaet, chto stradalec neprobudnym snom usnul.
V kolokol'nyh kel'yah rzhavyh,
On dlya pravyh i nepravyh
Grozno vtorit ob odnom:
CHto na serdce budet kamen', chto glaza somknutsya snom.
Fakel traurnyj gorit,
S kolokol'ni kto-to kriknul, kto-to gromko govorit,
Kto-to chernyj tam stoit,
I hohochet, i gremit,
I gudit, gudit, gudit,
K kolokol'ne pripadaet,
Gulkij kolokol kachaet,
Gulkij kolokol rydaet,
Stonet v vozduhe nemom
I protyazhno vozveshchaet o pokoe grobovom.
(1895)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
I saw thee once - once only - years ago:
I must not say _how_ many - but _not_ many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven,
There fell a silvery-silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber,
Upon the upturn'd faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe -
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses
That gave out, in return for the love-light,
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death -
Fell on the upturn'd faces of these roses
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted
By thee, and by the poetry of thy presence.
Clad all in white, upon a violet bank
I saw thee half reclining; while the moon
Fell on the upturn'd faces of the roses,
And on thine own, upturn'd - alas, in sorrow!
Was it not Fate, that, on this July midnight -
Was it not Fate, (whose name is also Sorrow),
That bade me pause before that garden-gate,
To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses?
No footstep stirred: the hated world all slept,
Save only thee and me. (Oh, Heaven! - oh, God!
How my heart beats in coupling those two words!)
Save only thee and me. I paused - I looked -
And in an instant all things disappeared.
(Ah, bear in mind this garden was enchanted!)
The pearly lustre of the moon went out:
The mossy banks and the meandering paths,
The happy flowers and the repining trees,
Were seen no more: the very roses' odors
Died in the arms of the adoring airs.
All - all expired save thee - save less than thou:
Save only the divine light in thine eyes -
Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes.
I saw but them - they were the world to me.
I saw but them - saw only them for hours -
Saw only them until the moon went down.
What wild heart-histories seemed to lie enwritten
Upon those crystalline, celestial spheres!
How dark a wo! yet how sublime a hope!
How silently serene a sea of pride!
How daring an ambition! yet how deep -
How fathomless a capacity for love!
But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight,
Into a western couch of thunder-cloud;
And thou, a ghost, amid the entombing trees
Didst glide away. _Only thine eyes remained_.
They _would not go_ - they never yet have gone.
Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,
_They_ have not left me (as my hopes have) since.
They follow me - they lead me through the years.
They are my ministers - yet I their slave.
Their office is to illumine and enkindle -
My duty, _to be saved_ by their bright light,
And purified in their electric fire,
And sanctified in their elysian fire.
They fill my soul with Beauty (which is Hope,)
And are far up in Heaven - the stars I kneel to
In the sad, silent watches of my night;
While even in the meridian glare of day
I see them still - two sweetly scintillant
Venuses, unextinguished by the sun!
(1848-1849)
Tebya ya videl raz, lish' raz; shli gody;
Skazat' ne smeyu skol'ko, no ne mnogo.
To byl Iyul' i polnoch'; i ot polnoj
Luny, chto, kak tvoya dusha, bluzhdaya
Iskala put' pryamoj po nebesam, -
Srebristo-shelkovym pokrovom sveta,
Spokojstvie, i znoj, i son spadali
Na podnyatye liki tysyach roz,
V sadu volshebnom vyrosshih, gde veter
Smel probegat' na cypochkah edva, -
Na podnyatye lica roz spadali,
Struivshih, kak otvet na svet lyubovnyj
V bezumnoj smerti, aromat dushi, -
Na lica roz spadali, chto smeyalis'
I umirali v tom sadu, zaklyatom
Toboj i charoj blizosti tvoej.
Odetoj v belom, na kovre fialok,
Tebya lezhashchej videl ya; svet lunnyj
Skol'zil na podnyatye lica roz
I na tvoe, - ah! podnyatoe s grust'yu.
Byla l' Sud'ba - ta polnoch', tot Iyul',
Byla l' Sud'ba (chto imenuyut Skorb'yu),
CHto povelela mne u vhoda medlit',
Vdyhaya aromaty sonnyh roz?
Ni shaga vkrug; proklyatyj mir - dremal,
Lish' ty i ya ne spali (bozhe! nebo!
Kak b'etsya serdce, edinya dva slova).
Lish' ty i ya ne spali. YA smotrel,
I v mig edinyj vse vokrug ischezlo
(O, ne zabud', chto sad byl tot - volshebnyj!),
Luny pogasli perlovye blestki,
Skam'i iz moha, sputannye tropki,
Schastlivye cvety, derev'ya v grusti, -
Vse, vse ischezlo; dazhe zapah roz
V ob®yat'yah aromatnyh vzdohov umer.
Ischezlo vse, - ostalas' ty, - net, men'she,
CHem ty: lish' divnyj svet - ochej tvoih,
Dusha tvoih vzvedennyh v vys' ochej.
Lish' ih ya videl: to byl - ves' moj mir;
Lish' ih ya videl; vse chasy lish' ih,
Lish' ih, poka luna ne zakatilas'.
O, skol'ko strashnyh skazok serdca bylo
Napisano na teh kristal'nyh sferah!
CHto za toska! No chto za upovan'ya!
I chto za more gordosti bezmolvnoj!
Otvazhnoj gordosti, i nesravnennoj
Glubokoj sily rokovoj Lyubvi!
Vot, nakonec, Diana, naklonyayas'
Na zapad, sterla grozovye tuchi;
Ty, prizrak, mezh derev'ev osenyavshih
Tebya, ischezla. Lish' glaza ostalis',
Ne uhodili, - ne ushli vovek,
Mne osveshchaya odinokij k domu
Moj put', svetili (kak nadezhdy) - vechno.
Oni so mnoj vedut menya skvoz' gody,
Mne sluzhat, mezhdu tem ya sam - ih rab;
Ih delo - obeshchat', vosplamenyat'
Moj dolg; spasaem ya ih yarkim bleskom,
Ih elektricheskim ognem ochishchen,
YA osveshchen ognem ih elisejskim.
Mne napolnyaya dushu Krasotoj
(Ona zh - Nadezhda), svetyat v nebe - zvezdy,
CHto na kolenyah chtu v nochnyh tomlen'yah;
No vizhu ih i v polnom bleske poldnya,
Vsegda ih vizhu, - bleshchushchie nezhno
Venery dve, chto ne zatmit i solnce.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Thank Heaven! the crisis -
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last -
And the fever called "Living"
Is conquered at last.
Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length -
But no matter! - I feel
I am better at length.
And I rest so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
That any beholder
Might fancy me dead -
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart: - ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!
The sickness - the nausea -
The pitiless pain -
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain -
With the fever called "Living"
That burned in my brain.
And oh! of all tortures
_That_ torture the worst
Has abated - the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the napthaline river
Of Passion accurst: -
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst: -
Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
Feet under ground -
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.
And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;
For man never slept
In a different bed -
And, to _sleep_, you must slumber
In just such a bed.
My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting its roses -
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:
For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansies -
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies -
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.
And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie -
Drowned in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.
She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breast -
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.
When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm -
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.
And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love)
That you fancy me dead -
And I rest so contentedly,
Now in my bed,
(With her love at my breast)
That you fancy me dead -
That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead: -
But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars in the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie -
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie -
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.
(1849)
Hvalenie nebu!
Opasnost' proshla,
Tomlen'e ischezlo,
I mgla lish' byla,
Goryachka, chto "ZHizn'yu"
Zovetsya - proshla.
Priskorbno, ya znayu,
Lishilsya ya sil,
Ne sdvinus', ne stronus',
Lezhu, vse zabyl -
No chto v tom! - teper' ya
Dovol'nej, chem byl.
V posteli, spokojnyj
Lezhu nakonec,
Kto glyanet, tot drognet,
Pomyslit - mertvec,
Uzrev menya, vzdrognet,
Podumav - mertvec.
Rydan'ya, stenan'ya,
I vzdohi, i peni,
Spokojny teper',
I eto terzan'e,
Tam v serdce: - terzan'e,
S bieniem v dver'.
Durnotnye pytki
Bezzhalostnyh char
Ischezli s goryachkoj,
Razveyan ugar,
S goryachkoyu "ZHizn'yu",
CHto zhzhet, kak pozhar.
Iz pytok, ch'e zhalo
Ostrej, chem zmei,
Vseh pytok strashnee,
CHto est' v bytii, -
O, zhazhda, o, zhazhda
Proklyatyh strastej,
To gornye smoly,
Kipuchij ruchej.
No _eto_ utihlo,
Ispil ya ot vod,
CHto gasyat vsyu zhazhdu: -
Ta vlaga poet,
Techet kolybel'yu
Ona pod zemlej,
Iz temnoj peshchery,
Struej klyuchevoj,
Ne ochen' daleko,
Vot tut pod zemlej.
I o! da ne skazhut,
V oshibke slepoj -
YA v uzkoj posteli,
V temnice gluhoj: -
CHelovek i ne spal ved'
V posteli drugoj -
I kol' _spat'_, tak uzh nuzhno
Byt' v posteli takoj.
Izmuchennyj duh moj
Zdes' v tihosti grez,
Zabyl, ili bol'she
Ne zhaleet on roz,
|tih staryh volnenij
Mirt i pahnushchih roz: -
Potomu chto, spokojnyj
Leleya privet,
Zapah luchshij vdyhaet on -
Troicyn cvet,
Rozmarin s nim slivaet
Aromat svoj i svet -
I ruta - i krasivyj on,
Troicyn cvet.
I lezhit on schastlivyj,
Vidya svetlye sny,
O pravdivosti Anni,
O krasivoj te sny,
Nezhno, lokony Anni
V eti sny vpleteny.
Sladko tak celovala -
"Zadremli - ne glyadi" -
I usnul ya tihon'ko
U nee na grudi,
Zacharovannyj laskoj
Na nebesnoj grudi.
S ugasaniem sveta
Tak ukryla teplo,
I molila nebesnyh,
Da razveyut vse zlo,
Da carica nebesnyh
Proch' otveet vse zlo.
I lezhu ya v posteli,
I utih nakonec
(Ibo znayu, chto lyubit),
V vashih myslyah - mertvec.
A lezhu ya dovol'nyj,
Tishina - moj venec,
(Na grudi moej - laska),
Vy zhe mnite - mertvec,
Vy glyadite, drozhite,
Myslya - vot, on mertvec.
No yarchej moe serdce
Vseh nebesnyh luchej,
V serdce iskritsya Anni,
Zvezdy nezhnyh ochej,
Serdce rdeet ot sveta
Nezhnoj Anni moej,
Vse lyubov'yu odeto
Svetloj Anni moej!
(1911)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Gaily bedight,
A gallant knight,
In sunshine and in shadow,
Had journeyed long,
Singing a song,
In search of Eldorado.
But he grew old -
This knight so bold -
And o'er his heart a shadow
Fell, as he found
No spot of ground
That looked like Eldorado.
And, as his strength
Failed him at length
He met a pilgrim shadow -
"Shadow", said he,
"Where can it be -
This land of Eldorado?"
"Over the Mountains
Of the Moon,
Down the Valley of the Shadow,
Ride, boldly ride",
The shade replied, -
"If you seek for Eldorado!"
(1849)
Mezhdu gor i dolin
Edet rycar' odin,
Nikogo emu v mire ne nado.
On vse edet vpered,
On vse pesnyu poet,
On zamyslil najti |l'dorado.
No v skitan'yah - odin
Dozhil on do sedin,
I pogasla bylaya otrada.
Ezdil rycar' vezde,
No ne vstretil nigde,
Ne nashel on nigde |l'dorado.
I kogda on ustal,
Pred skital'cem predstal
Strannyj prizrak - i shepchet: "CHto nado?"
Totchas rycar' emu:
"Rasskazhi, ne pojmu,
Ukazhi, gde strana |l'dorado?"
I otvetila Ten':
"Gde rozhdaetsya den',
Lunnyh Gor gde chut' zrima gromada.
CHerez ad, cherez raj,
Vse vpered poezzhaj,
Esli hochesh' najti |l'dorado!"
(1899)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
Because I feel that, in the Heavens above,
The angels, whispering to one another,
Can find, among their burning terms of love,
None so devotional as that of "Mother",
Therefore by that dear name I long have called you -
You who are more than mother unto me,
And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you
In setting my Virginia's spirit free.
My mother - my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that infinity with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
(1849)
Kogda v Rayu, gde dyshit blagodat',
Nezdeshneyu lyuboviyu tomimy,
Drug drugu nezhno shepchut serafimy,
U nih net slov nezhnej, chem slovo Mat'.
I potomu-to pylko vozlyubila
Moya dusha tebya tak zvat' vsegda,
Ty bol'she mne, chem mat', s teh por, kogda
Virginiya naveki opochila.
Moya rodnaya mat' mne zhizn' dala,
No rano, slishkom rano umerla.
I ya tebya kak mat' lyublyu, - no Bozhe!
Naskol'ko ty mne bolee rodna,
Nastol'ko, kak byla moya zhena
Moej dushe - moej dushi dorozhe!
(1901)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; -
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
_She_ was a child and _I_ was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee -
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up, in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me: -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: -
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride
In her sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
(1849)
|to bylo davno, eto bylo davno,
V korolevstve primorskoj zemli:
Tam zhila i cvela ta, chto zvalas' vsegda,
Nazyvalasya Annabel'-Li,
YA lyubil, byl lyubim, my lyubili vdvoem,
Tol'ko etim my zhit' i mogli.
I, lyubov'yu dysha, byli oba det'mi
V korolevstve primorskoj zemli.
No lyubili my bol'she, chem lyubyat v lyubvi, -
YA i nezhnaya Annabel'-Li,
I, vziraya na nas, serafimy nebes
Toj lyubvi nam prostit' ne mogli.
Ottogo i sluchilos' kogda-to davno,
V korolevstve primorskoj zemli, -
S neba veter poveyal holodnyj iz tuch,
On poveyal na Annabel'-Li;
I rodnye tolpoj mnogoznatnoj soshlis'
I ee ot menya unesli,
CHtob naveki ee polozhit' v sarkofag,
V korolevstve primorskoj zemli.
Poloviny takogo blazhenstva uznat'
Serafimy v rayu ne mogli, -
Ottogo i sluchilos' (kak vedomo vsem
V korolevstve primorskoj zemli), -
Veter noch'yu poveyal holodnyj iz tuch
I ubil moyu Annabel'-Li.
No, lyubya, my lyubili sil'nej i polnej
Teh, chto starosti bremya nesli, -
Teh, chto mudrost'yu nas prevzoshli, -
I ni angely neba, ni demony t'my,
Razluchit' nikogda ne mogli,
Ne mogli razluchit' moyu dushu s dushoj
Obol'stitel'noj Annabel'-Li.
I vsegda luch luny navevaet mne sny
O plenitel'noj Annabel'-Li:
I zazhzhetsya l' zvezda, vizhu ochi vsegda
Obol'stitel'noj Annabel'-Li;
I v mercan'i nochej ya vse s nej, ya vse s nej,
S nezabvennoj - s nevestoj - s lyubov'yu moej -
Ryadom s nej rasprostert ya vdali,
V sarkofage primorskoj zemli.
(1895)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
A dark unfathom'd tide
Of interminable pride -
A mystery, and a dream,
Should my early life seem;
I say that dream was fraught
With a wild, and waking thought
Of beings that have been,
Which my spirit hath not seen.
Had I let them pass me by,
With a dreaming eye!
Let none of earth inherit
That vision of my spirit;
Those thoughts I would controul,
As a spell upon his soul:
For that bright hope at last
And that light time have past,
And my worldly rest hath gone
With a sigh as it pass'd on:
I care not tho' it perish
With a thought I then did cherish.
(1827)
Sumrak neizmerimyj
Gordosti neukrotimoj,
Tajna, da son, da bred:
|to - zhizn' moih rannih let.
|tot son vsegda byl trevozhim
CHem-to dikim, na mysl' pohozhim
Sushchestv, chto byli v bylom.
No razum, okovannyj snom,
Ne znal, predo mnoj proshli li,
Teni nevedomoj byli.
Da ne primet nikto v dar nasledij
Videnij, vstavavshih v brede,
CHto ya tshchetno staralsya stryahnut',
CHto, kak chara, davili grud'!
Opravdalis' nadezhdy edva li;
Vse zhe te vremena minovali,
No navek ya utratil pokoj
Na zemle, chtob dyshat' toskoj.
CHto zh, pust' kanet on dymom letuchim.
Lish' by s bredom, chem ya byl muchim!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Sit down beside me, Isabel,
_Here_, dearest, where the moonbeam fell
Just now so fairy-like and well.
_Now_ thou art dress'd for paradise!
I am star-stricken with thine eyes!
My soul is lolling on thy sighs!
Thy hair is lifted by the moon
Like flowers by the low breath of June!
Sit down, sit down - how came we here?
Or is it all but a dream, my dear?
You know that most enormous flower -
That rose - that what d'ye call it - that hung
Up like a dog-star in this bower -
To-day (the wind blew, and) it swung
So impudently in my face,
So like a thing alive you know,
I tore it from its pride of place
And shook it into pieces - so
Be all ingratitude requited.
The winds ran off with it delighted,
And, thro' the opening left, as soon
As she threw off her cloak, you moon
Has sent a ray down with a tune.
And this ray is a _fairy_ ray -
Did you not say so, Isabel?
How fantastically it fell
With a spiral twist and a swell,
And over the wet grass rippled away
With a tinkling like a bell!
In my own country all the way
We can discover a moon ray
Which thro' some tatter'd curtain pries
Into the darkness of a room,
Is by (the very source of gloom)
The motes, and dust, and flies,
On which it trembles and lies
Like joy upon sorrow!
O, _when_ will come the morrow?
Isabel! do you not fear
The night and the wonders here?
Dim vales! and shadowy floods!
And cloudy-looking woods
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons - see! wax and wane
Again - again - again -
Every moment of the night -
Forever changing places!
How they put out the starlight
With the breath from their pale faces!
Lo! one is coming down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence!
Down - still down - and down -
Now deep shall be - O deep!
The passion of our sleep!
For that wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Drowsily over halls -
Over ruin'd walls -
Over waterfalls,
(Silent waterfalls!)
O'er the strange woods - o'er the sea -
Alas! over the sea!
(1829-1831)
Syad', Izabel', syad' bliz menya,
Gde lunnyj luch skol'zit, igraya,
Volshebnej i prekrasnej dnya.
Vot - tvoj naryad dostoin raya!
Dvuzvezd'em glaz tvoih ya p'yan!
Dushe tvoj vzdoh kak nebo dan!
Tebe vzvil kudri otblesk lunnyj,
Kak veterok cvety v iyune.
Syad' zdes'! - Kto nas privel k lune?
Il', dorogaya, my vo sne?
Ogromnyj byl cvetok v sadu
(Dlya vas on roza) - na zvezdu
V sozvezd'i Psa pohozh; koleblem
Polnochnym vetrom, derzko steblem
Menya hlestnul on, chto est' sil,
ZHivomu sushchestvu podoben,
Tak, chto, nevol'no gnevno-zloben,
Cvetok nadmennyj ya slomil -
Neblagodarnosti otmetil, -
I lepestki vzvil veter burnyj,
No v nebe vdrug, v prosvet lazurnyj
Vzoshla iz oblakov luna,
Vsegda garmonii polna.
Est' volshebstvo v luche tom
(Ty poklyalas' mne v etom!)
Kak fantastichen on, -
Spiralen, udlinen;
Drobyas' v kovre zelenom,
On travy polnit zvonom.
U nas vse znat' dolzhny,
CHto blednyj luch luny,
Projdya v shchel' zanaveski,
Risuya arabeski,
I v serdce temnoty
Gorya v lyuboj pylinke,
Kak v moshke, kak v rosinke, -
Son schast'ya s vysoty!
Kogda zh nastupit den'?
Noch', Izabel', i ten'
Strashny, polny chudes,
I tuchevidnyj les,
CH'i formy brezzhut stranno
V slepyh slezah tumana.
Bessmertnyh lun chreda -
Vsegda - vsegda - vsegda, -
Menyaya mutno vid,
Ushcherb na disk, - bezhit,
Bezhit, - ulybkoj blednoj
Svet zvezd gasya pobedno.
Odna po nebosklonu
Nishodit - na koronu
Gory k ee prestolu
Centr klonit - dolu - dolu, -
Kak budto v etot srok
Nash son glubok - glubok!
Tuman ogromnoj sfery,
Kak nekij plashch bez mery,
Spadaet vglub' dolin, -
Na vystupy ruin, -
Na skaly, - vodopady, -
(Bezmolvnye kaskady!) -
Na strannost' slov - o gore! -
Na more, ah, na more!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Far away - far away -
Far away - as far at least
Lies that valley as the day
Down within the golden east -
All things lovely - are not they
Far away - far away?
It is called the valley Nis.
And a Syriac tale there is
Thereabout which Time hath said
Shall not be interpreted.
Something about Satan's dart -
Something about angel wings -
Much about a broken heart -
All about unhappy things:
But "the valley Nis" at best
Means "the valley of unrest."
_Once_ it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell,
Having gone unto the wars -
And the sly mysterious stars,
With a visage full of meaning,
O'er the unguarded flowers were leaning:
Or the sun ray dripp'd all red
Thro' the tulips overhead,
Then grew paler as it fell
On the quiet Asphodel.
Now the _unhappy_ shall confess
Nothing there is motionless:
Helen, like thy human eye
There th' uneasy violets lie -
There the reedy grass doth wave
Over the old forgotten grave -
One by one from the tree top
There the eternal dews do drop -
There the vague and dreamy trees
Do roll like seas in northern breeze
Around the stormy Hebrides -
There the gorgeous clouds do fly,
Rustling everlastingly,
Through the terror-stricken sky,
Rolling like a waterfall
O'er th' horizon's fiery wall -
There the moon doth shine by night
With a most unsteady light -
There the sun doth reel by day
"Over the hills and far away."
(1831)
Tak daleko, tak daleko,
CHto konca ne vidit oko,
Dol prostert zhivym kovrom
Na Vostoke zolotom.
To, chto tam laskaet oko,
Vse daleko, ah, daleko!
|tot dol - dolina Nisa.
Mif o dole sohranilsya
Mezh sirijcev (temen on:
Smysl vekami ohranen);
Mif - o drote Satany,
Mif - o kryl'yah Serafimov,
O serdcah, toskoj drobimyh,
O skorbyah, chto suzhdeny,
Ibo kratko - "Nis", a dlinno -
"Bespokojnaya dolina".
Prezhde mirnyj dol zdes' byl,
Gde nikto, nikto ne zhil.
Lyudi na vojnu ushli;
Zvezdy s hitrymi ochami,
Liki s mudrymi luchami,
Tajnu trav zdes' beregli;
Imi solnca luch, bagryan,
Dmilsya, prilaskav tyul'pan,
No potom luchi beleli
V kolybeli asfodelej.
Kto neschasten, znaet nyne:
Net pokoya v toj doline!
Elena! Kak tvoi glaza,
Fialki smotryat v nebesa;
I nad mogiloj tuchnyh trav
Ronyayut stebli sok otrav;
Za kaplej kaplya, vdol' stvola
Spolzaet edkaya smola;
Derev'ya mrachny i ustaly,
Drozhat, kak volny, vstretya shkvaly,
Kak volny u sedyh Gebrid;
I oblakov pokrov skol'zit
Po nebu, ob®yatomu strahom;
I vetry vopl' vedut nad prahom,
I rushat tuchi, kak kaskady,
Nad izgorod'yu dymov ada;
Pugaet noch'yu serp luny
Nevernym svetom s vyshiny,
I solnce dnem drozhit v toske
Po vsem holmam i vdaleke.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
How shall the burial rite be read?
The solemn song be sung?
The requiem for the loveliest dead,
That ever died so young?
Her friends are gazing on her,
And on her gaudy bier,
And weep! - oh! to dishonor
Her beauty with a tear!
They loved her for her wealth -
And they hated her for her pride -
But she grew in feeble health,
And they love _her_ - that she died.
They tell me (while they speak
Of her "costly broider'd pall")
That my voice is growing weak -
That I should not sing at all -
Or that my tone should be
Tun'd to such solemn song
So mournfully - so mournfully,
That the dead may feel no wrong.
But she is gone above,
With young Hope at her side,
And I am drunk with love
Of the dead, who is my bride.
Of the dead - dead - who lies
All motionless,
With the death upon her eyes,
And the life upon each tress.
Thus on the coffin loud and long
I strike - the murmur sent
Through the grey chambers to my song
Shall be the accompaniment.
In June she died - in June
Of life - beloved, and fair;
But she did not die too soon,
Nor with too calm an air.
From more than fiends on earth,
Helen, thy soul is riven,
To join the all-hallowed mirth
Of more than thrones in heaven -
Therefore, to thee this night
I will no requiem raise,
But waft thee on thy flight,
With a Paean of old days.
(1831-1836)
Kak rekviem chitat' - o smeh! -
Kak pet' nam gimn svyatoj!
Toj, chto byla prekrasnej vseh
I samoj molodoj!
Druz'ya glyadyat, kak na mechtu,
V grobu na lik svyatoj,
I shepchut: "O! Kak krasotu
Beschestit' nam slezoj?"
Oni lyubili prelest' v nej,
No gordost' klyali vsluh.
Nastala smert'. Oni sil'nej
Lyubit' posmeli vdrug.
Mne govoryat (a mezhdu tem
Boltaet vsya sem'ya),
CHto golos moj oslab sovsem,
CHto pet' ne dolzhen ya
I chto moj golos, poln bylym,
Byt' dolzhen, v lad skorbej,
Stol' gorestnym - stol' gorestnym,
CHto tyazhko stanet ej.
Ona poshla za nebosklon,
Nadezhdu uvela;
YA vse zh lyubov'yu op'yanen
K toj, kto moej byla!
K toj, kto lezhit - prah luchshih grez,
Eshche prekrasnyj prah!
ZHizn' v zolote ee volos,
No smert', no smert' v ochah.
YA v grob stuchus' - uporno b'yu,
I stuki te zvuchat
Vezde, vezde! - i pesn' moyu
Soprovozhdayut v lad.
V Iyune dnej ty umerla,
Prekrasnoj slishkom? - Net!
Ne slishkom rano ty ushla,
I gimn moj bujno spet.
Ne tol'ko ot zemli ottorg
Tebya tot kraj chudes:
Ty vidish' bol'she, chem vostorg
Pred tronami nebes!
Pet' rekviem ya ne hochu
V takuyu noch', - o net!
No tvoj polet ya oblegchu
Peanom drevnih let!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Russkie perevody (1878-1988)
3a. SON VO SNE
V lob tebya celuyu ya,
I pozvol' mne, uhodya,
Prosheptat', pechal' taya:
Ty byla prava vpolne, -
Dni moi proshli vo sne!
Upovan'e bylo snom;
Vse ravno, vo mgle il' dnem,
V dymnom prizrake il' net,
No ono proshlo, kak bred.
Vse, chto v mire zrimo mne
Ili mnitsya, - son vo sne.
Stoyu u burnyh vod,
Krugom groza rastet;
Hranit moya ruka
Gorst' zernyshek peska.
Kak malo! Kak skol'zyat
Mezh pal'cev vse nazad...
I ya v slezah, - v slezah:
O bozhe! kak v rukah
Szhat' zolotistyj prah?
Pust' budet hot' odno
Zerno sohraneno!
Vse l' to, chto zrimo mne
Il' mnitsya, - son vo sne?
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
12a. K***
Ne zhdu, chtob moj zemnoj udel
Byl chuzhd zemnogo tlen'ya;
Goda lyubvi ya b ne hotel
Zabyt' v bredu mgnoven'ya.
I plachu ya ne nad sud'boj
Svoej, s proklyat'em shozhej:
Nad tem, chto ty grustish' so mnoj,
So mnoj, kto lish' prohozhij.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
13a. FEJNAYA STRANA
Doly dymnye - potoki
Tenevye - i lesa,
CHto glyadyat kak nebesa,
Mnogooblachno-shiroki,
V nih nevernaya krasa,
Formy ih nerazlichimy,
Vsyudu slezy, slovno dymy;
Luny tayut i rastut -
SHar ogromnyj tam i tut -
Snova luny - snova - snova -
Kazhdyj mig pory nochnoj
Ozaryaetsya lunoj,
Ishchut mesta vse inogo,
Ugashayut zvezdnyj svet,
V blednyh likah zhizni net,
CHut' na lunnom ciferblate
Znak dvenadcati chasov, -
Ta, v kotoroj bol'she snov,
Bol'she dymnoj blagodati,
(|to chara v toj strane,
Govorit luna lune),
Shodit nizhe - shodit nizhe -
Na gore na verhovoj
Stavit shar goryashchij svoj -
I povsyudu - dal'she - blizhe -
V legkih skladkah blednyh snov
Rasshiryaetsya pokrov
Nad derevnej, nad polyami,
Nad chertogami, vezde -
Nad lesami i moryami,
Po zemle i po vode -
I nad duhom, chto krylami
V greze veet - nado vsem,
CHto dremotstvuet mezh tem -
Ih zavodit sovershenno
V labirint svoih luchej,
V teh izvivah derzhit plenno,
I gluboko, sokrovenno,
O, gluboko, mezh tenej,
Spit luna, i dushi s nej.
Utrom, v svete pozoloty,
Vstanut, skinut strast' dremoty,
Mchitsya lunnyj ih pokrov
V nebesah, mezh oblakov.
V lete bur' oni nosimy,
Kolybelyas' mezhdu groz -
Kak iz zherl vulkanov dymy,
Ili zheltyj Al'batros.
Dlya odnoj i toj zhe celi
Ta palatka, ta luna
Im uzh bol'she ne nuzhna -
Vmig dozhdyami poleteli
Bleski-atomy teh snov,
I, menyayas', zablesteli
Na krylah u motyl'kov,
Teh, chto, buduchi zemnymi,
Uletayut v nebesa,
Nispuskayutsya cvetnymi
(Prihot' sna vladeet imi!),
Ih krylami raspisnymi
Svetit vyshnyaya krasa.
(1911)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
14a. K ELENE
Elena! Krasota tvoya -
Nikejskij cheln dnej otdalennyh,
CHto mchal mezh zybej blagovonnyh
Brodyag, bluzhdan'em utomlennyh,
V rodimye kraya!
V moryah Skorbej ya byl tomim,
No giacintovye pryadi
Nad blednym oblikom tvoim,
Tvoj golos, svojstvennyj Nayade,
Menya vernuli k snam rodnym:
K prekrasnoj navsegda |llade
I k tvoemu velich'yu, Rim!
V okne, chto svetit v mrak nochnoj,
Kak statuya, ty predo mnoj
Vzdymaesh' lampu iz agata.
Psiheya! kraj tvoj byl kogda-to
Obetovannoyu stranoj!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
15a. IZRAFELI
...I angel Izrafeli, ch'e serdce -
lyutnya i chej golos - nezhnej, chem golosa
vseh drugih sozdanij boga.
Koran
Est' duh nebesnyh kelij,
"CH'e serdce - lyutni ston".
Nigde v mirah ne peli
Nezhnej, chem Izrafeli;
Vse zvezdy onemeli,
Molchali, v sladkom hmele,
Edva zapel im on.
Grezya v vysote,
Vsya lyubvi polna,
Pokrasnev, luna
Zvuki te
Lovit cherez tem';
Bystrye Pleyady
(Koih bylo sem')
S nej polny uslady.
I shepchut, v sladkom hmele,
Hor zvezd, vse duhi v mire,
CHto sila Izrafeli -
V ego napevnoj lire;
I on vveryaet strunam,
Vsegda zhivym i yunym,
CHudesnyj gimn v efire.
No angel - gost' lazuri,
Gde stroj razdumij - strog,
Lyubov' - predvechnyj bog;
I vzory svetlyh Gurij
Polny toj krasotoj,
CHto svetit nam - zvezdoj.
Da, tam, v lazuri yasnoj,
Ty prav, o Izrafeli,
Prezrev napev besstrastnyj.
Nash lavr, bard svetlokudryj,
Primi, kak samyj mudryj!
ZHivi sredi veselij!
S ekstazami efira
Tvoi soglasny zvuki.
Strast', radost', skorb' i muki -
Slity s palyashchej liroj.
Molchite, duhi mira!
Lazur' - tvoya! u nas
Toska, nesovershenstvo;
Zdes' rozy, - ne almaz;
Ten' tvoego blazhenstva
Nash samyj yarkij chas.
Kogda b ya zhil,
Gde Izrafeli,
On, - gde mne Rok sudil,
Byt' mozhet, struny b ne zveneli
Ego melodiej veselij,
No smelej by poleteli
Zvuki strun moih do oblasti svetil.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
16a. SPYASHCHAYA
To bylo polnoch'yu, v Iyune,
V dni charovan'ya polnolunij;
I usyplyayushche-rosistyj
SHel par ot chashi zolotistoj,
Za kaplej kaplya, nispadal
Na mirnye vershiny skal
I muzykal'no, i bespechno
Struilsya po doline vechnoj.
Vdyhala rozmarin mogila;
Na vodah liliya pochila;
Tumanom okruzhaya grud',
Ruina zhazhdala - usnut';
Kak Leta (vidish'?) dremlyut vody,
Soznatel'no, v tishi prirody,
CHtob ne prosnut'sya gody, gody!
Vkusila krasota pokoj...
Raskryv okno na mir nochnoj,
Ajrina spit s svoej Sud'boj.
Prekrasnaya! o, pochemu
Okno otkryto v noch' i t'mu?
Napev nasmeshlivyj, s rakit,
Smeyas', k tebe v okno skol'zit, -
Besplotnyj roj, koldunij roj
I zdes', i tam, i nad toboj;
Oni kachayut toroplivo,
To prihotlivo, to puglivo,
Zakrytyj, s bahromoj, al'kov,
Gde ty vkusila negu snov;
I vdol' steny, i na polu
Trepeshchet ten', smushchaya mglu.
Ty ne prosnesh'sya? ne uzhasnesh'sya?
Kakim ty grezam otdaesh'sya?
Ty priplyla l' iz-za morej
Divit'sya zeleni polej?
Naryad tvoj stranen! Ty bledna!
No kak tvoya kosa pyshna!
Kak velichava tishina!
Ajrina spit. O esli b son
Glubok mog byt', kak dolog on!
Hrani, o nebo, etot son!
Da budet svyatost' v etoj spal'ne!
Net lozha na zemle pechal'nej.
O bozhe, pomogi zhe ej
Ne otkryvat' svoih ochej,
Poka skol'zit roj zlyh tenej.
Moya Lyubov', spi! Esli b son
Stal vechnym tak, kak dolog on?
CHerv', ne trevozh', vpolzaya, son!
Pust' gde-to v roshche, drevnej, temnoj,
Nad nej vosstanet svod ogromnyj,
Svod chernoj i gluhoj grobnicy,
CHto raskryval, kak kryl'ya pticy,
Torzhestvenno vrata svoi
Nad traurom ee sem'i, -
Dalekij, odinokij vhod,
Ta dver', v kakuyu, bez zabot,
Metala kamni ty, rebenkom, -
Dver' sklepa, s otgoloskom zvonkim,
CH'e eho ne razbudish' vnov'
(Ditya greha! moya lyubov'!),
Drozha, zaslysha dolgij zvon:
Ne mertvyh li to slyshen ston?
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
17a. BESPOKOJNAYA DOLINA
_Prezhde_ mirnyj dol zdes' byl,
Gde nikto, nikto ne zhil;
Lyudi na vojnu ushli,
Zvezdam vveriv volyu pashen,
CHtob v nochi, s lazurnyh bashen,
Tajnu trav te steregli.
Gde, lenivo skryt v tyul'pany,
Dnem spal solnca luch bagryanyj.
Vidit kazhdyj putnik nyne:
Net pokoya v toj pustyne.
Vse - v dvizhen'ya, vse - drozhit,
Krome vozduha, chto spit
Nad magicheskoj pustynej.
Zdes' vetra net; no v drozhi les,
Volna volne bezhit v razrez,
Kak v more u sedyh Gebrid.
A! vetra net, no vdal' bezhit
Tuch grozovyh stroj v tverdi strannoj,
S utra do nochi, - neprestanno,
Nad sonmom fialok, chto stremyat
V vys' liki, slovno zhenskij vzglyad,
I lilij, chto drozhat, spletyas'
U plit mogil v zhivuyu vyaz',
Drozhat, - i s kup ih, chto sleza,
Po kaplyam, vniz techet rosa;
Drozhat; - chto slezy, vniz, mezh tem,
Spadayut kapli krupnyh gemm.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
18a. GOROD NA MORE
Smotri! Smert' tam vozdvigla tron,
Gde strannyj gorod pogruzhen,
Na dymnom Zapade, v svoj son.
Gde dobryj i zloj, geroj i zlodej
Davno soshli v stranu tenej.
Dvorcy, palaty, bashni tam
(Ryad, chuzhdyh drozhi, mshistyh bashen)
Tak chuzhdy nashim gorodam!
Ne tronet veter s morya - pashen;
I vody, v zabyt'i nemom,
Pokoyatsya pechal'nym snom.
Luch solnca so svyatyh vysot
Tam nochi dolgoj ne prervet;
No tusklyj blesk ugryumyh vod
Struitsya molcha v vys', na kryshi
Zmeitsya po zubcam, i vyshe,
Po hramam, - bashnyam, - po palatam, -
Po Vavilonu-srodnym skatam, -
Tenistym, broshennym besedkam, -
Izvayannym cvetam i vetkam,
Gde divnyh kapishch ryad i ryad,
Gde, frizom spleteny, visyat -
Glazki, - fialki, - vinograd.
Voda, v unynii nemom,
Pokoitsya pokornym snom;
S tenyami slity, bashni te
Kak budto visnut v pustote;
A s bashni, chto uhodit v tverd',
Kak Ispolin, v glub' smotrit Smert'.
Glub' sarkofagov, kapishch vhod
Ziyayut nad mercan'em vod;
No vse sokrovishcha dvorcov,
Glaza almaznye bogov,
I pyshnyj mertvecov ubor -
Volny ne vzmanyat: nem prostor.
I drozh', uvy! ne shelohnet
Steklyannuyu poverhnost' vod.
Kto skazhet: est' morya schastlivej,
Gde vihri bujstvuyut v poryve,
CHto buri est' nad glubinoj
Ne stol' chudovishchno nemoj!
No chto zhe! Vozduh zadrozhal!
Vstaet volna, - podnyalsya val!
Kak budto, kanuv v glubinu,
Te bashni dvinuli volnu,
Kak budto kryshi na letu
Sozdali v nebe pustotu!
Teper' na vodah - otblesk alyj, -
CHasy - bessil'ny i ustaly, -
Kogda zh pod groznyj gul vo t'mu,
Vo glub', vo glub', ves' gorod kanet, -
S beschestnyh tronov ad vosstanet,
S privetstviem emu!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
19a. ODNOJ V RAYU
V tvoem vse bylo vzore,
O chem grustyat mechty:
Byla ty - ostrov v more,
Altar' vo hrame - ty,
Cvety v lesnom prostore,
I vse - moi cvety!
No son byl slishkom nezhen
I dlit'sya on ne mog,
Konec byl neizbezhen!
Zov budushchego strog:
"Vpered!" - no duh, myatezhen,
Nad snom, chto byl tak nezhen,
ZHdet - medlit - iznemog.
Uvy! - vsya zhizn' - v tumane,
Ne budet bol'she neg.
"Navek, - navek, - navek!"
(Tak volny v okeane
Poyut, svershaya beg).
Orel, ubit, ne vstanet,
Dub srublen, drovosek!
Vse dni moi - kak skazki,
I snami noch' zhivet:
Tvoi mne bleshchut glazki,
Tvoj legkij shag poet, -
V kakoj efirnoj plyaske
U ital'yanskih vod.
Ty v dal' morej prostrannyh
Plyvesh', menya zabyv,
Dlya radostej obmannyh,
Dlya grez, chej oblik lzhiv,
Ot nashih stran tumannyh,
Ot serebristyh iv.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
21a. KOLISEJ
Lik Rima drevnego! Kovcheg bogatyj
Vysokih sozercanij. Vremenam
Zaveshchannyh vekami slav i sily!
Vot sovershilos'! - Posle stol'kih dnej
Skitanij tyazhkih i palyashchej zhazhdy -
(ZHazhdy klyuchej poznan'ya, chto v tebe!)
Sklonyayus' ya, unizhen, izmenen,
Sredi tvoih tenej, vbiraya v dushu
Tvoe velich'e, slavu i pechal'.
Bezmernost'! Drevnost'! Pamyat' o bylom!
Molchan'e! Bezuteshnost'! Noch' gluhaya!
Vas nyne chuvstvuyu, - vas, v vashej sile! -
Net, v Gefsimanii car' Iudejskij
Stol' pravym charam ne uchil vovek!
U mirnyh zvezd haldej obvorozhennyj
Stol' vlastnyh char ne vyryval vovek!
Gde pal geroj, zdes' padaet kolonna!
Gde zolotoj orel blistal v triumfe,
Zdes' shabash noch'yu pravit netopyr'!
Gde rimskih dam pozolochennyj volos
Kachalsya s vetrom, zdes' - polyn', volchcy!
Gde zolotoj vzdymalsya tron monarha,
Skol'zit, kak prizrak, v mramornyj svoj dom,
Ozarena luchom luny dvurogoj,
Bezmolvno, bystro yashcherica skal.
No net! te steny, - arki te v plyushche, -
Te plity, - grustno-chernye kolonny, -
Pustye glyby, - ruhnuvshie frizy, -
Karnizov ryad, - razvaliny, - ruiny, -
Te kamni, - ah, sedye! - eto l' vse,
Vse, cht_o_ ot slavy, vse, cht_o_ ot kolossa
Ostavili CHasy - Sud'be i mne?
"Ne vse, - veshchaet |ho, - net, ne vse!
Prorocheskij i moshchnyj ston ishodit
Vsegda ot nas, ot nashih glyb, i mudrym
Tot vnyaten ston, kak gimn Memnona k Solncu:
My vlastny nad serdcami sil'nyh, vlastny
Samoderzhavno nad dushoj velikih.
My ne bessil'ny, - my, sedye kamni, -
Ne vsya issyakla vlast', ne vse velich'e, -
Ne vsya volshebnost' nashej gordoj slavy, -
Ne vsya chudesnost', byvshaya vkrug nas, -
Ne vsya tainstvennost', chto v nas byla, -
Ne vse vospominan'ya, chto visyat
Nad nami, k nam priniknuv, kak odezhda,
Nas oblekaya v plashch, chto vyshe Slavy!"
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
26a. NEPOKOJNYJ ZAMOK
V toj doline izumrudnoj,
Gde lish' angely skol'zyat,
Zamok divnyj, zamok chudnyj
Vyros - mnogo let nazad!
Duh Caricy Mysli veyal
V carstve tom.
Serafim vovek ne reyal
Nad prekrasnejshim dvorcom!
Tam na bashne, - purpur, zlato, -
Gordo vilis' znamena.
(|to bylo - vse - kogda-to,
Ah, v bylye vremena!)
Kazhdyj vetra vzdoh, chut' vnyatnyj
V tihom sne,
Mchalsya dal'she, aromatnyj,
Po ukrashennoj stene.
V toj doline ideal'noj
Putnik v okna razlichal
Duhov, v plyaske muzykal'noj
Obhodivshih kruglyj zal,
Mysli tron Porfirorodnoj, -
A Ona
Pela s lyutnej blagorodnoj
Gimn, luchom ozarena.
Lallom, zhemchugom gorela
Dver' prekrasnogo dvorca:
Skvoz' - vse pelo, pelo, pelo
|ho gimna bez konca;
Pelo, slavya bez granicy,
|ho, ty -
Mudrost' veshchuyu Caricy,
V zvukah divnoj krasoty.
No, odety vlasyanicej,
Bedy vtorglis' vo dvorec.
(Plach'te! - solnce nad Caricej
Ne zateplit svoj venec!)
I nad zamkom chudnym, slavnym,
V carstve tom,
Pamyat' lish' o starodavnem,
Sluh neyasnyj o bylom.
V toj doline putnik nyne
V krasnyh oknah vidit stroj
Dikih prizrakov pustyni,
V plyaske sputanno-slepoj,
A skvoz' dveri sonm bessvyaznyj,
Suetyas',
Rvetsya bujnyj, bezobraznyj,
Hohocha, - no ne smeyas'!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
27a. MOLCHANIE
Est' svojstva, bestelesnye yavlen'ya,
S dvojnoyu zhizn'yu; tip ih s davnih let, -
Ta dvojstvennost', chto porazhaet zren'e:
To - ten' i sushchnost', veshchestvo i svet.
Est' dva molchan'ya; berega i more,
Dusha i telo. Vlastvuet odno
V tishi. Spokojno nezhnoe, ono
Vospominanij i poznan'ya gore
Tait v sebe, i "bol'she nikogda"
Zovut ego. Telesnoe molchan'e,
Ono bessil'no, ne strashis' vreda!
No esli vstretish' el'fa bez nazvan'ya, -
Molchan'ya ten', v pustynyah bez sleda,
Gde chelovek ne dolzhen stavit' nogu,
Znaj: vse pokoncheno! predajsya bogu!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
28a. CHERVX POBEDITELX
Smotri! ogni vo mrake bleshchut
(O, noch' poslednih let!).
V teatre angely trepeshchut,
Glyadya iz t'my na svet,
Sledya v slezah za pantomimoj
Nadezhd i vechnyh bed.
Kak ston, zvuchit orkestr nezrimyj:
To - muzyka planet.
Akterov sonm, - podob'e boga, -
Bormochet, govorit,
Tuda, syuda letit s trevogoj, -
Mir kukol'nyj, speshit.
Bezlikij nekto pravit imi,
Menyaet sceny vid,
I s kondorovyh kryl, nezrimyj,
Proklyatie struit.
Nelepyj fars! - no nevozmozhno
Ne pomnit' mimov teh,
CHto gonyatsya za Ten'yu, s lozhnoj
Nadezhdoj na uspeh,
CHto, obegaya krug naprasnyj,
Idut nazad, pod smeh!
V nem uzhas carstvuet, v nem vlastny
Bezumie i Greh.
No chto za obraz, ves' krovavyj,
Mezh mimami polzet?
Za scenu tyanutsya sustavy,
On dvizhetsya vpered,
Vse dal'she, - dal'she, - pozhiraya
Igrayushchih, i vot
Teatr rydaet, sozercaya
V krovi uzhasnyj rot.
No gasnet, gasnet svet upornyj!
Nad trepetnoj tolpoj
Vniz zanaves spadaet chernyj,
Kak burya rokovoj.
I angely, bledny i pryamy,
Krichat, plashch skinuv svoj,
CHto "CHelovek" - nazvan'e dramy,
CHto "CHerv'" - ee geroj!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
29a. LINOR
Raskolot zolotoj sosud, i dal' dushe otkryta!
Lish' telo tut, a duh nesut, nesut strui Kocita.
A! Gi de Ver! rydaj teper', teper' il' nikogda!
Tvoya Linor smezhila vzor, - v grobu, i navsegda!
Obryad tvorite pohoron, zapojte gimn svyatoj,
Pechal'nyj gimn bylyh vremen o zhertve molodoj,
O toj, chto dvazhdy umerla, skonchavshis' molodoj!
"Lzhecy! vy v nej lyubili prah, no gordost' klyali
v nej!
Kogda v nej stebel' zhizni chah, vy byli s nej
nezhnej.
Tak kak zhe vam tvorit' obryad, kak pet' vam gimn
svyatoj?
Ne vash li vzglyad, nedobryj vzglyad, ne vy li klevetoj
Nevinnost' v grob sveli navek, - o! slishkom
molodoj!"
Peaccavimus. No nashih uz ne otyagchaj! zvuchit
Pust' grustnyj zvon, no pust' i on ee ne ogorchit.
Linor idet, - "ushla vpered", - s Nadezhdoj
navsegda.
Dusha temna, s toboj ona ne budet nikogda, -
Ona, ditya prekrasnyh grez, chto nyne tihij prah.
ZHizn' veet v zolote volos, no smert' v ee ochah...
Eshche est' zhizn' v rune volos, no tol'ko smert' v ochah.
"Proch'! v etu noch' svetla dusha! Ne plakat' mne o nej!
Mezh angelov poyu, spesha, pean dalekih dnej.
Pust' zvon molchit, pust' ne smutit, v ee mechtah,
vdali,
Tu, chto plyvet k lucham vysot ot proklyatoj zemli,
K druz'yam na zov, ot vseh vragov (i son zemnoj ischez)!
Iz ada v vys' nesis', nesis' - k siyaniyu nebes,
Iz mgly, gde ston, tuda, gde tron vlastitelya nebes!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
30a. STRANA SNOV
Tropoj temnoj, odinokoj,
Gde lish' duhov bleshchet oko,
Tam, gde noch'yu chernyj tron
(|tim Idolom) vznesen,
YA dostig, nedavno, sonnyj,
Granej Fule otdalennoj,
I bozhestvennoj, i strannoj, dikoj oblasti, vznesennoj
Vne Prostranstv i vne Vremen.
Bezdonnyj dol, bezmernosti potoka,
Peshchery, bezdny, strannye lesa;
Na obliki, kakih ne znalo oko,
CHto mig, to kaplet edkaya rosa.
Gory rushatsya vsechasno
V okean bez beregov,
CHto valy vzdymaet vlastno
Do goryashchih oblakov.
Ozer prostory, stranno polnovodnyh,
Bezmernost' vod, - i mertvyh, i holodnyh,
Nedvizhnost' vod, - zastyvshih v mgle bessilii
Pod snegom naklonennyh lilij.
Tam bliz ozer, bezmerno polnovodnyh,
Bliz mertvyh vod, - i mertvyh, i holodnyh, -
Bliz tihih vod, zastyvshih v mgle bessilii
Pod snegom naklonennyh lilij, -
Tam bliz gor, - bliz rek, begushchih,
Tiho l'yushchih, vek poyushchih; -
Bliz lesov i bliz bolot,
Gde lish' vodnyj gad zhivet;
Bliz prudov i bliz ozer,
Gde koldunij bleshchet vzor;
V kazhdom meste pogrebal'nom,
V kazhdom ugolku pechal'nom,
Vstretit, v uzhase nemom,
Putnik - Dumy o bylom, -
Formy, v savanah unylyh,
Formy v belom, teni milyh,
CHto idut so stonom tam,
V agonii, predavayas' i Zemle i Nebesam!
Dlya serdec, ch'ya skorb' bezmerna,
|to - kraj uslady vernoj,
Dlya umov, chto sumrak Ada
Znayut, eto - |l'-Dorado!
No, v strane tenej skol'zya,
Obozret' ee - nel'zya!
Tajn ee vovek, vovek
Ne poznaet chelovek;
Car' ee ne razreshit,
CHtob byl smertnyj vzor otkryt;
CH'e b skorbnoe Soznan'e tam ni shlo,
Ono vse vidit v dymnoe steklo.
Tropkoj temnoj, odinokoj,
Gde lish' duhov bleshchet oko,
Iz strany, gde Noch'yu - tron
(|tim Idolom) vznesen,
YA vernulsya, utomlennyj,
S granej Fule otdalennoj.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
31a. YUL|LEJ
YA zhil odin,
V strane kruchin
(V dushe byl ozernyj pokoj).
No nezhnaya stala YUlelej moej stydlivoj zhenoj,
Zlatokudraya stala YUlelej moej schastlivoj
zhenoj!
Temnej, ah, temnej
Zvezdy nochej,
CHem ochi lyubimicy grez!
I legkij tuman,
Lunoj osiyan,
S perelivami perlov i roz,
Ne sravnitsya s nebrezhnoyu pryad'yu - skromnoj
YUlelej volos,
Ne sravnitsya s sluchajnoyu pryad'yu - ogneokoj
YUlelej volos.
Somnenij i bed
S pory etoj net,
Ibo vmeste my s etih por,
I yarko dnem
Ozaryaet luchom
Nam Astarta nebesnyj prostor,
I milaya vzvodit YUlelej k nej materinskij svoj
vzor,
I yunaya vzvodit YUlelej k nej svoj fialkovyj
vzor!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
32a. VORON
Raz, kogda ya v gluhuyu polnoch', blednyj i utomlennyj, razmyshlyal nad
grudoj dragocennyh, hotya uzhe pozabytyh uchenyh foliantov, kogda ya v polusne
lomal nad nimi sebe golovu, vdrug poslyshalsya legkij stuk, kak budto kto-to
tihon'ko stuknul v dver' moej komnaty. "|to kakoj-nibud' prohozhij, -
probormotal ya pro sebya, - stuchit ko mne v komnatu, - prohozhij, i bol'she
nichego". Ah, ya otlichno pomnyu. Na dvore stoyal togda studenyj dekabr'.
Dogoravshij v kamine ugol' oblival pol svetom, v kotorom vidna byla ego
agoniya. YA strastno ozhidal nastupleniya utra; naprasno sililsya ya utopit' v
svoih knigah pechal' po moej bezvozvratno pogibshej Lenore, po dragocennoj i
luchezarnoj Lenore, imya kotoroj izvestno angelam i kotoruyu zdes' ne nazovut
bol'she nikogda.
I shoroh shelkovyh purpurovyh zaves, polnyj pechali i grez, sil'no
trevozhil menya, napolnyal dushu moyu chudovishchnymi, nevedomymi mne dosele
strahami, tak chto v konce koncov, chtoby zamedlit' bienie svoego serdca, ya
vstal i prinyalsya povtoryat' sebe: "|to kakoj-nibud' prohozhij, kotoryj hochet
vojti ko mne; eto kakoj-nibud' zapozdalyj prohozhij stuchit v dver' moej
komnaty; eto on, i bol'she nichego".
Moya dusha togda pochuvstvovala sebya bodree, i ya, ni minuty ne koleblyas',
skazal: "Kto by tam ni byl, umolyayu vas, prostite menya radi Boga; delo,
vidite, v tom, chto ya vzdremnul nemnozhko, a vy tak tiho postuchalis', tak tiho
podoshli k dveri moej komnaty, chto ya edva-edva vas rasslyshal". I togda ya
raskryl dver' nastezh', - byl mrak i bol'she nichego.
Vsmatrivayas' v etot mrak, ya dolgoe vremya stoyal, izumlennyj, polnyj
straha i somneniya, grezya takimi grezami, kakimi ne derzal ni odin smertnyj,
no molchan'e ne bylo prervano i tishina ne byla narushena nichem. Bylo
prosheptano odno tol'ko slovo "Lenora", i eto slovo proiznes ya. |ho povtorilo
ego, povtorilo, i bol'she nichego.
Vernuvshis' k sebe v komnatu, ya chuvstvoval, chto dusha moya gorela kak v
ogne, i ya snova uslyshal stuk, - stuk sil'nee prezhnego. "Navernoe, - skazal
ya, - chto-nibud' kroetsya za stavnyami moego okna; posmotryu-ka, v chem tam delo,
razuznayu sekret i dam peredohnut' nemnozhko svoemu serdcu. |to - veter, i
bol'she nichego".
Togda ya tolknul stavni, i v okno, gromko hlopaya kryl'yami, vletel
velichestvennyj voron, ptica svyashchennyh dnej drevnosti. On ne vykazal ni
malejshego uvazheniya; on ne ostanovilsya, ne zapnulsya ni na minutu, no s minoyu
lorda i ledi vzgromozdilsya nad dver'yu moej komnaty, vzgromozdilsya na byust
Pallady nad dver'yu moej komnaty, - vzgromozdilsya, uselsya i... bol'she nichego.
Togda eta chernaya, kak eben, ptica vazhnost'yu svoej postupi i strogost'yu
svoej fizionomii vyzvala v moem pechal'nom voobrazhenii ulybku, i ya skazal:
"Hotya tvoya golova i bez shlema, i bez shchita, no ty vse-taki ne trus', ugryumyj,
staryj voron, putnik s beregov nochi. Povedaj, kak zovut tebya na beregah
plutonovoj nochi". Voron karknul: "Bol'she nikogda!"
YA byl krajne izumlen, chto eto neuklyuzhee pernatoe sozdan'e tak legko
razumelo chelovecheskoe slovo, hotya otvet ego i ne imel dlya menya osobennogo
smysla i nichut' ne oblegchil moej skorbi; no, ved', nado zhe soznat'sya, chto ni
odnomu smertnomu ne bylo dano videt' pticu nad dver'yu svoej komnaty, pticu
ili zverya nad dver'yu svoej komnaty na vysechennom byuste, kotorym bylo by imya
_Bol'she nikogda_!
No voron, vzgromozdivshis' na spokojnyj byust, proiznes tol'ko odno eto
slovo, kak budto v odno eto slovo on izlil vsyu svoyu dushu. On ne proiznes
nichego bolee, on ne poshevel'nulsya ni edinym perom; ya skazal togda sebe tiho:
"Druz'ya moi uzhe daleko uleteli ot menya; nastupit utro, i etot tak zhe pokinet
menya, kak moi prezhnie, uzhe ischeznuvshie, nadezhdy". Togda ptica skazala:
"_Bol'she nikogda_!"
Ves' zadrozhal ya, uslyhav takoj otvet, i skazal: "Bez somneniya, slova,
proiznosimye pticeyu, byli ee edinstvennym znaniem, kotoromu ona nauchilas' u
svoego neschastnogo hozyaina, kotorogo neumolimoe gore muchilo bez otdyha i
sroka, poka ego pesni ne stali zakanchivat'sya odnim i tem zhe pripevom, poka
bezvozvratno pogibshie nadezhdy ne prinyali melanholicheskogo pripeva: "Nikogda,
nikogda bol'she!"
No voron snova vyzval v moej dushe ulybku, i ya podkatil kreslo pryamo
protiv pticy, naprotiv byusta i dveri; zatem, uglubivshis' v barhatnye podushki
kresla, ya prinyalsya dumat' na vse lady, staralsya razgadat', chto hotela
skazat' eta veshchaya ptica drevnih dnej, chto hotela skazat' eta pechal'naya,
neuklyuzhaya, zlopoluchnaya, hudaya i veshchaya ptica, karkaya svoe: "_Bol'she
nikogda_!" YA ostavalsya v takom polozhenii, teryayas' v mechtah i dogadkah, i, ne
obrashchayas' ni s edinym slovom k ptice, ognennye glaza kotoroj szhigali menya
teper' do glubiny serdca, ya vse sililsya razgadat' tajnu, a golova moya
privol'no pokoilas' na barhatnoj podushke, kotoruyu laskal svet lampy, - na
tom fioletovom barhate, laskaemom svetom lampy, kuda ona uzhe ne sklonit
svoej golovki bol'she nikogda!
Togda mne pokazalos', chto vozduh nachal malo-pomalu napolnyat'sya klubami
dyma, vyhodivshego iz kadila, kotoroe raskachivali serafimy, stopy kotoryh
skol'zili po kovram komnaty. "Neschastnyj! - vskrichal ya sebe. - Bog tvoj chrez
svoih angelov daet tebe zabvenie, on posylaet tebe bal'zam zabveniya, chtoby
ty ne vspominal bolee o svoej Lenore! Pej, pej etot celebnyj bal'zam i
zabud' pogibshuyu bezvozvratno Lenoru!" Voron karknul: "Bol'she nikogda!"
"Prorok! - skazal ya, - zloschastnaya tvar', ptica ili d'yavol, no vse-taki
prorok! Bud' ty poslan samim iskusitelem, bud' ty vykinut, izvergnut bureyu,
no ty - neustrashim: est' li zdes', na etoj pustynnoj, polnoj grez zemle, v
etoj obiteli skorbej, est' li zdes', - povedaj mne vsyu pravdu, umolyayu tebya,
- est' li zdes' bal'zam zabven'ya? Skazhi, ne skroj, umolyayu!" Voron karknul:
"Bol'she nikogda!"
"Prorok! - skazal ya, - zloschastnaya tvar', ptica ili d'yavol, no vse-taki
prorok! Vo imya etih nebes, rasprostertyh nad nami, vo imya togo bozhestva,
kotoromu my oba poklonyaemsya, povedaj etoj gorestnoj dushe, dano li budet ej v
dalekom |deme obnyat' tu svyatuyu, kotoruyu angely zovut Lenoroj, prizhat' k
grudi moyu miluyu, luchezarnuyu Lenoru!" Voron karknul: "Bol'she nikogda!"
"Da budut zhe eti slova signalom k nashej razluke, ptica ili d'yavol! -
vskrichal ya, pripodnyavshis' s kresla. - Idi snova na buryu, vernis' k beregu
plutonovoj nochi, ne ostavlyaj zdes' ni edinogo chernogo peryshka, kotoroe moglo
by napomnit' o lzhi, vyshedshej iz tvoej dushi! Ostav' moj priyut neoskvernennym!
Pokin' etot byust nad dver'yu moej komnaty. Vyrvi svoj klyuv iz moego serdca i
unesi svoj prizrachnyj obraz podal'she ot moej dveri!" Voron karknul: "Bol'she
nikogda!"
I voron, nepodvizhnyj, vse eshche sidit na blednom byuste Pallady, kak raz
nad dver'yu moej komnaty, i glaza ego smotryat, slovno glaza mechtayushchego
d'yavola; i svet lampy, padayushchij na nego, brosaet na pol ego ten'; i dusha moya
iz kruga etoj teni, koleblyushchejsya po polu, ne vyjdet bol'she nikogda!
(1885)
Perevodchik neizvesten
32b. VORON
Kak-to v polnoch', v chas ugryumyj, polnyj tyagostnoyu dumoj,
Nad starinnymi tomami ya sklonyalsya v polusne,
Grezam strannym otdavalsya, - vdrug neyasnyj zvuk razdalsya,
Budto kto-to postuchalsya - postuchalsya v dver' ko mne.
"|to, verno, - prosheptal ya, - gost' v polnochnoj tishine,
Gost' stuchitsya v dver' ko mne".
YAsno pomnyu... Ozhidan'e... Pozdnej oseni rydan'ya...
I v kamine ochertan'ya tusklo tleyushchih uglej...
O, kak zhazhdal ya rassveta, kak ya tshchetno zhdal otveta
Na stradan'e bez priveta, na vopros o nej, o nej -
O Lenore, chto blistala yarche vseh zemnyh ognej, -
O svetile prezhnih dnej.
I zaves purpurnyh trepet izdaval kak budto lepet,
Trepet, lepet, napolnyavshij temnym chuvstvom serdce mne.
Neponyatnyj strah smiryaya, vstal ya s mesta, povtoryaya:
"|to tol'ko gost', bluzhdaya, postuchalsya v dver' ko mne,
Pozdnij gost' priyuta prosit v polunochnoj tishine -
Gost' stuchitsya v dver' ko mne".
"Podaviv svoi somnen'ya, pobedivshi spasen'ya,
YA skazal: "Ne osudite zamedlen'ya moego!
|toj polnoch'yu nenastnoj ya vzdremnul, - i stuk neyasnyj
Slishkom tih byl, stuk neyasnyj, - i ne slyshal ya ego,
YA ne slyshal..." Tut raskryl ya dver' zhilishcha moego:
T'ma - i bol'she nichego.
Vzor zastyl, vo t'me stesnennyj, i stoyal ya izumlennyj,
Snam otdavshis', nedostupnym na zemle ni dlya kogo;
No kak prezhde noch' molchala, t'ma dushe ne otvechala,
Lish' - "Lenora!" - prozvuchalo imya solnca moego, -
|to ya shepnul, i eho povtorilo vnov' ego, -
|ho - bol'she nichego.
Vnov' ya v komnatu vernulsya - obernulsya - sodrognulsya, -
Stuk razdalsya, no slyshnee, chem zvuchal on do togo.
"Verno, chto-nibud' slomilos', chto-nibud' poshevelilos',
Tam, za stavnyami, zabilos' u okoshka moego,
|to - veter, - usmiryu ya trepet serdca moego, -
Veter - bol'she nichego".
YA tolknul okno s reshetkoj, - totchas vazhnoyu pohodkoj
Iz-za stavnej vyshel Voron, gordyj Voron staryh dnej,
Ne sklonilsya on uchtivo, no, kak lord, voshel spesivo
I, vzmahnuv krylom lenivo, v pyshnoj vazhnosti svoej
On vzletel na byust Pallady, chto nad dver'yu byl moej,
On vzletel - i sel nad nej.
Ot pechali ya ochnulsya i nevol'no usmehnulsya,
Vidya vazhnost' etoj pticy, zhivshej dolgie goda.
"Tvoj hohol oshchipan slavno, i glyadish' ty prezabavno, -
YA promolvil, - no skazhi mne: v carstve t'my, gde noch' vsegda,
Kak ty zvalsya, gordyj Voron, tam, gde noch' carit vsegda?"
Molvil Voron: "Nikogda".
Ptica yasno otvechala, i hot' smysla bylo malo.
Podivilsya ya vsem serdcem na otvet ee togda.
Da i kto ne podivitsya, kto s takoj mechtoj srodnitsya,
Kto poverit' soglasitsya, chtoby gde-nibud', kogda -
Sel nad dver'yu govoryashchij bez zapinki, bez truda
Voron s klichkoj: "Nikogda".
I vziraya tak surovo, lish' odno tverdil on slovo,
Tochno vsyu on dushu vylil v etom slove "Nikogda",
I krylami ne vzmahnul on, i perom ne shevel'nul on, -
YA shepnul: "Druz'ya sokrylis' vot uzh mnogie goda,
Zavtra on menya pokinet, kak nadezhdy, navsegda".
Voron molvil: "Nikogda".
Uslyhav otvet udachnyj, vzdrognul ya v trevoge mrachnoj.
"Verno, byl on, - ya podumal, - u togo, ch'ya zhizn' - Beda,
U stradal'ca, ch'i muchen'ya vozrastali, kak techen'e
Rek vesnoj, ch'e otrechen'e ot Nadezhdy navsegda
V pesne vylilos' o schast'i, chto, pogibnuv navsegda,
Vnov' ne vspyhnet nikogda".
No, ot skorbi otdyhaya, ulybayas' i vzdyhaya,
Kreslo ya svoe pridvinul protiv Vorona togda,
I, sklonyas' na barhat nezhnyj, ya fantazii bezbrezhnoj
Otdalsya dushoj myatezhnoj: "|to - Voron, Voron, da.
No o chem tverdit zloveshchij etim chernym "Nikogda",
Strashnym krikom: "Nikogda".
YA sidel, dogadok polnyj i zadumchivo-bezmolvnyj,
Vzory pticy zhgli mne serdce, kak ognistaya zvezda,
I s pechal'yu zapozdaloj golovoj svoej ustaloj
YA pril'nul k podushke aloj, i podumal ya togda:
YA - odin, na barhat alyj - ta, kogo lyubil vsegda,
Ne pril'net uzh nikogda.
No postoj: vokrug temneet, i kak budto kto-to veet, -
To s kadil'nicej nebesnoj serafim prishel syuda?
V mig neyasnyj upoen'ya ya vskrichal: "Prosti, muchen'e,
|to bog poslal zabven'e o Lenore navsegda, -
Pej, o, pej skorej zabven'e o Lenore navsegda!"
Karknul Voron: "Nikogda".
I vskrichal ya v skorbi strastnoj: "Ptica ty - il' duh uzhasnyj,
Iskusitelem li poslan, il' grozoj pribit syuda, -
Ty prorok neustrashimyj! V kraj pechal'nyj, nelyudimyj,
V kraj, Toskoyu oderzhimyj, ty prishel ko mne syuda!
O, skazhi, najdu l' zabven'e, - ya molyu, skazhi, kogda?"
Karknul Voron: "Nikogda".
"Ty prorok, - vskrichal ya, - veshchij! "Ptica ty - il' duh zloveshchij,
|tim nebom, chto nad nami, - bogom, skrytym navsegda, -
Zaklinayu, umolyaya, mne skazat' - v predelah Raya
Mne otkroetsya l' svyataya, chto sred' angelov vsegda,
Ta, kotoruyu Lenoroj v nebesah zovut vsegda?"
Karknul Voron: "Nikogda".
I voskliknul ya, vstavaya: "Proch' otsyuda, ptica zlaya!
Ty iz carstva t'my i buri, - uhodi opyat' tuda,
Ne hochu ya lzhi pozornoj, lzhi, kak eti per'ya, chernoj,
Udalis' zhe, duh upornyj! Byt' hochu - odin vsegda!
Vyn' svoj zhestkij klyuv iz serdca moego, gde skorb' - vsegda!"
Karknul Voron: "Nikogda".
I sidit, sidit zloveshchij Voron chernyj, Voron veshchij,
S byusta blednogo Pallady ne umchitsya nikuda.
On glyadit, uedinennyj, tochno Demon polusonnyj,
Svet struitsya, ten' lozhitsya, - na polu drozhit vsegda.
I dusha moya iz teni, chto volnuetsya vsegda.
Ne vosstanet - nikogda!
(1894)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
32v. VORON
Kak-to v polnoch', v chas unylyj, ya vnikal, ustav, bez sily,
Mezh tomov starinnyh, v stroki rassuzhden'ya odnogo
Po otvergnutoj nauke i rasslyshal smutno zvuki,
Vdrug u dveri slovno stuki - stuk u vhoda moego.
"|to - gost',- probormotal ya, - tam, u vhoda moego,
Gost', - i bol'she nichego!"
Ah! mne pomnitsya tak yasno: byl dekabr' i den' nenastnyj,
Byl kak prizrak - otsvet krasnyj ot kamina moego.
ZHdal zari ya v neterpen'e, v knigah tshchetno uteshen'e
YA iskal v tu noch' muchen'ya, - bden'ya noch', bez toj, kogo
Zvali zdes' Linor. To imya... SHepchut angely ego,
Na zemle zhe - net ego.
SHelkovistyj i ne rezkij, shoroh aloj zanaveski
Muchil, polnil temnym strahom, chto ne znal ya do nego.
CHtob smirit' v sebe bien'ya serdca, dolgo v uteshen'e
YA tverdil: "To - poseshchen'e prosto druga odnogo".
Povtoryal: "To - poseshchen'e prosto druga odnogo,
Druga, - bol'she nichego!"
Nakonec, vladeya volej, ya skazal, ne medlya bole:
"Ser il' Mistriss, izvinite, chto molchal ya do togo.
Delo v tom, chto zadremal ya i ne srazu rasslyhal ya,
Slabyj stuk ne razobral ya, stuk u vhoda moego".
Govorya, otkryl ya nastezh' dveri doma moego.
T'ma, - i bol'she nichego.
I, smotrya vo mrak glubokij, dolgo zhdal ya, odinokij,
Polnyj grez, chto vedat' smertnym ne davalos' do toyu!
Vse bezmolvno bylo snova, t'ma vokrug byla surova,
Razdalos' odno lish' slovo: shepchut angely ego.
YA shepnul: "Linor" - i eho povtorilo mne ego,
|ho, - bol'she nichego.
Lish' vernulsya ya nesmelo (vsya dusha vo mne gorela),
Vskore vnov' ya stuk rasslyshal, no yasnej, chem do togo.
No skazal ya: "|to stavnej veter zyblet svoenravnyj,
On i vyzval strah nedavnij, veter, tol'ko i vsego,
Bud' spokojno, serdce! |to - veter, tol'ko i vsego.
Veter, - bol'she nichego! "
Rastvoril svoe okno ya, i vletel vo glub' pokoya
Statnyj, drevnij Voron, shumom kryl'ev slavya torzhestvo,
Poklonit'sya ne hotel on; ne koleblyas', poletel on,
Slovno lord il' ledi, sel on, sel u vhoda moego,
Tam, na belyj byust Pallady, sel u vhoda moego,
Sel, - i bol'she nichego.
YA s ulybkoj mog divit'sya, kak ebenovaya ptica,
V strogoj vazhnosti - surova i gorda byla togda.
"Ty, - skazal ya, - lys i cheren, no ne robok i uporen,
Drevnij, mrachnyj Voron, strannik s beregov, gde noch' vsegda!
Kak zhe carstvenno ty prozvan u Plutona?" On togda
Karknul: "Bol'she nikogda!"
Ptica yasno prokrichala, izumiv menya snachala.
Bylo v krike smysla malo, i slova ne shli syuda.
No ne vsem blagosloven'e bylo - vedat' poseshchen'e
Pticy, chto nad vhodom syadet, velichava i gorda,
CHto na belom byuste syadet, chernokryla i gorda,
S klichkoj "Bol'she nikogda!".
Odinokij, Voron chernyj, sev na byust, brosal, upornyj,
Lish' dva slova, slovno dushu vylil v nih on navsegda.
Ih tverdya, on slovno stynul, ni odnim perom ne dvinul,
Nakonec ya ptice kinul: "Ran'she skrylis' bez sleda
Vse druz'ya; ty zavtra sginesh' beznadezhno!.." On togda
Karknul: "Bol'she nikogda!"
Vzdrognul ya, v volnen'e mrachnom, pri otvete stol
"|to - vse, - skazal ya, - vidno, chto on znaet, zhiv go,
S bednyakom, kogo terzali besposhchadnye pechali,
Gnali vdal' i dal'she gnali neudachi i nuzhda.
K pesnyam skorbi o nadezhdah lish' odin pripev nuzhda
Znala: bol'she nikogda!"
YA s ulybkoj mog divit'sya, kak glyadit mne v dushu ptica
Bystro kreslo podkatil ya protiv pticy, sel tuda:
Prizhimayas' k myagkoj tkani, razvival ya cep' mechtanij
Sny za snami; kak v tumane, dumal ya: "On zhil goda,
CHto zh prorochit, veshchij, toshchij, zhivshij v starye goda,
Krikom: bol'she nikogda?"
|to dumal ya s trevogoj, no ne smel shepnut' ni sloga
Ptice, ch'i glaza palili serdce mne ognem togda.
|to dumal i inoe, prislonyas' chelom v pokoe
K barhatu; my, prezhde, dvoe tak sideli inogda...
Ah! pri lampe ne sklonyat'sya ej na barhat inogda
Bol'she, bol'she nikogda!
I, kazalos', kluby dyma l'et kuril'nica nezrimo,
SHag chut' slyshen serafima, s nej voshedshego syuda.
"Bednyj!- ya vskrichal,- to bogom poslan otdyh vsem trevogam,
Otdyh, mir! chtob hot' nemnogo ty vkusil zabven'e, - da?
Pej! o, pej tot sladkij otdyh! pozabud' Linor, - o, da?"
Voron: "Bol'she nikogda!"
"Veshchij, - ya vskrichal, - zachem on pribyl, ptica ili demon
Iskusitelem li poslan, burej prignan li syuda?
YA ne pal, hot' poln unynij! V etoj zaklyatoj pustyne,
Zdes', gde pravit uzhas nyne, otvechaj, molyu, kogda
V Galaade mir najdu ya? obretu bal'zam kogda?"
Voron: "Bol'she nikogda!"
"Veshchij, - ya vskrichal, - zachem on pribyl, ptica ili d
Radi neba, chto nad nami, chasa Strashnogo suda,
Otvechaj dushe pechal'noj: ya v rayu, v otchizne dal'nej,
Vstrechu l' obraz ideal'nyj, chto mezh angelov vsegda?
Tu moyu Linor, ch'e imya shepchut angely vsegda?"
Voron; "Bol'she nikogda!"
"|to slovo - znak razluki! - kriknul ya, lomaya ruki. -
Vozvratis' v kraya, gde mrachno pleshchet Stiksova voda!
Ne ostav' zdes' per'ev chernyh, kak sledov ot slov pozorny?
Ne hochu druzej tletvornyh! S byusta - proch', i navsegda!
Proch' - iz serdca klyuv, i s dveri - proch' viden'e navsegda!
Voron: "Bol'she nikogda!"
I, kak budto s byustom slit on, vse sidit on, vse sidit on,
Tam, nad vhodom, Voron chernyj s belym byustom slit vsegda.
Svetom lampy ozarennyj, smotrit, slovno demon sonnyj.
Ten' lozhitsya udlinenno, na polu lezhit goda, -
I dushe ne vstat' iz teni, pust' idut, idut goda, -
Znayu, - bol'she nikogda!
(1905-1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
34a. K MARII-LUIZE (SHYU)
Iz vseh, kto blizost' chtut tvoyu, kak utro,
Komu tvoe otsutstvie - kak noch',
Zatmen'e polnoe na tverdi vyshnej
Svyatogo solnca, kto, rydaya, slavyat
Tebya za vse, za zhizn' i za nadezhdu,
Za voskresen'e very pogrebennoj
V lyudej, i v istinu, i v dobrodetel',
Kto na Otchayan'ya proklyatom lozhe
Lezhali, umiraya, i vosstali,
Tvoj nezhnyj zov poznav: "Da budet svet",
Tvoj nezhnyj zov zaslyshav, voploshchennyj
V blesk seraficheskij tvoih ochej, -
Kto tak tebe obyazan, chto podobna
Ih blagodarnost' obozhan'yu, - vspomni
O samom vernom, predannom vseh bol'she,
I znaj, chto nabrosal on eti stroki,
On, kto drozhit, ih vyvodya, pri mysli,
CHto duh ego byl s angel'skim v obshchen'i.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
35a. MARII-LUIZE (SHYU)
Tomu nedavno, tot, kto eto pishet,
V bezumnoj gordosti svoim soznan'em,
"Vlast' slov" podderzhivaya, otrical,
CHtob mysl' mogla v mozgu u cheloveka
Rodit'sya, ne vmeshchaemaya slovom.
I vot, na pohval'bu v nasmeshku slovno,
Dva slova, - dva chuzhih dvuslozh'ya nezhnyh,
Po zvuku ital'yanskih, - teh, chto shepchut
Lish' angely, v rose mechtaya lunnoj,
"CHto cep'yu perlov na Germone visnet", -
Iz samyh glubej serdca izvlekli
Bezmyslennye mysli, dushi myslej,
Bogache, strozhe, divnej, chem viden'ya,
CHto Izrafeli, s arfoj serafim
(CHej "glas nezhnej, chem vseh sozdanij bozh'ih").
Izvlech' by mog! A ya! Razbity chary!
Ruka drozhit, i padaet pero.
O nezhnom imeni, - hot' ty velela, -
Pisat' net sil; net sil skazat', pomyslit',
Uvy! net sil i chuvstvovat'! Ne chuvstvo -
Zastyt' v nedvizhnosti na zolotom
Poroge u otkrytoj dveri snov,
Smotrya v ekstaze v chudnye pokoi,
I sodrogat'sya, vidya, sprava, sleva,
Vezde, na protyazhen'i vsej dorogi,
V dymu purpurnom, daleko, kuda
Lish' dostigaet vzor, - odnu tebya!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
38a. ZVON
Vnemlesh' sanok tonkim zvonam,
Zvonam serebra?
CHto za mir veselij predveshchaet ih igra!
Vnemlem zvonam, zvonam, zvonam
V l'distom vozduhe nochnom,
Pod zvezdistym nebosklonom,
V svete tysyach iskr, zazhzhennom
Kristallicheskim ognem, -
S ritmom vernym, vernym, vernym,
Slovno strofy sag razmernym,
S perezvyakivan'em myagkim, s sonnym otzyvom vremen,
Zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon,
Bubencov skol'zyashchih sanok mnogozvuchnyj perezvon!
Svadebnomu vnemlesh' zvonu,
Zolotomu zvonu?
CHto za mir vostorgov on veshchaet nebosklonu!
V vozduhe dushistom nochi
On o radostyah prorochit;
Niti zolota litogo,
Za volnoj volnu,
L'et on v lono sna nochnogo,
Tak chtob gorlinki sprosonok, umilennye, nemeli,
Glyadya na lunu!
Kak iz etih fejnyh kelij
Bryzzhet v zvonkoj evfonii perepevno pesn' veselij!
Upoen, unesen
V dal' vremen
|toj pesnej mir pod zvon!
Pro vostorg veshchaet on.
Teh kasanij,
Kolyhanij,
CHto rozhdaet zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon,
Ritm garmonij v perezvone, - zvon, zvon, zvon!
Slyshish' zloj nabata zvon,
Mednyj zvon?
CHto za skazku nam pro uzhas povestvuet on!
Pryamo v sluh drozhashchej nochi
CHto za trepet on prorochit?
Slishkom v strahe, chtob skazat',
Mozhet lish' krichat', krichat'.
V bezrazmernom zvone tom
Vse otchayan'e vzyvan'ya pred bezzhalostnym ognem,
Vse bezum'e sostyazan'ya s yarostnym, gluhim ognem,
CHto stremitsya vyshe, vyshe,
Beznadezhnoj zhazhdoj dyshit,
Slilsya v pomysle odnom,
Nikogda, il' nyne, nyne,
Voznestis' k lune prozrachnoj, doletet' do tverdi
sinej!
Zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon,
CHto za povest' voet on
Ob otchayan'i nemom!
Kak on voet, vopit, stonet,
Kak nadezhdy vse horonit
V temnom vozduhe nochnom!
Uho znaet, uznaet
V etom zvone,
V etom stone:
To ogon' vstaet, to zhdet;
Uho slyshit i sledit
V etom stone,
Perezvone:
To ogon' grozit, to spit.
Vozrastan'em, zamiran'em vse veshchaet gnevnyj zvon,
Mednyj zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon,
Polnyj voem, polnyj stonom, isstuplen'em polnyj
zvon.
Pohoronnyj slyshish' zvon,
Zvon zheleznyj?
CHto za mir torzhestv unylyh zaklyuchaet on!
Kak v molchan'i nochi
Drozh'yu nas obnyat' on hochet,
Golosya gluhoj ugrozoj pod raskrytoj zvezdnoj bezdnoj!
Kazhdyj vybroshennyj zvuk,
Slovno hriplyj golos muk,
|to - ston.
I nevol'no, ah! nevol'no,
Kto pod bashnej kolokol'noj
Odinoko tyanut dni,
Zvon brosaya pohoronnyj,
V monotonnost' pogruzhennyj,
Gordy tem, chto bogomol'no
Kamen' na serdce drugomu navalili i oni.
Tam ne lyudi, i ne zveri,
Net muzhchin i zhenshchin, gde stoit zvonar':
|to demony poverij,
Zvon vedet - ih car'.
On zavodit zvon,
Vopit, vopit, vopit on
Gimn - pean kolokolov,
Sam vostorgom upoen
Pod pean kolokolov.
Vopit on, skakat' gotov,
V ritme vernom, vernom, vernom,
Slovno strofy sag razmernom
Pod pean kolokolov
I pod zvon;
Vopit, plyashet v ritme vernom,
Slovno strofy sag razmernom,
V lad serdcam kolokolov,
Pod ih stony, pod ih zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon;
Vopit, plyashet v ritme vernom,
Zvon brosaya pohoron
Staryh sag stihom razmernym;
Kolokol brosaya v zvon,
V zvon, zvon, zvon,
Pod rydan'ya, stony, zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon, zvon,
Zvon, zvon, zvon
Pod stenyashchij, pod gudyashchij pohoronnyj zvon,
(1914)
Perevod V. Bryusova
39a. K ELENE
Tebya ya videl raz, odin lish' raz.
Ushli goda s teh por, ne znayu, skol'ko, -
Mne chuditsya, proshlo nemnogo let.
To bylo znojnoj polnoch'yu Iyulya;
Zazhglas' v lazuri polnaya luna,
S tvoej dushoyu stranno sochetayas',
Ona hotela byt' na vysote
I bystro shla svoim putem nebesnym;
I vmeste s negoj sladostnoj dremoty
Upal na zemlyu laskovyj pokrov
Ee luchej srebristo-shelkovistyh, -
Pril'nul k ustam poluraskrytyh roz.
I zamer sad. I veter shalovlivyj,
Boyas' dvizhen'em chary vozmutit',
Na cypochkah chut' slyshno probiralsya:
Pokrov luchej srebristo-shelkovistyh
Pril'nul k ustam poluraskrytyh roz,
I umerli v iznemozhen'i rozy,
Ih dushi otleteli k nebesam,
Blagouhan'em legkim i vozdushnym;
V sebya vpivaya lunnyj poceluj,
S ulybkoj schast'ya rozy umirali, -
I ocharovan byl cvetushchij sad -
Toboj, tvoim prisutstviem chudesnym.
Vsya v belom, na skam'yu polusklonyas',
Sidela ty, zadumchivo-pechal'na,
I na tvoe otkrytoe lico
Lozhilsya lunnyj svet, bol'noj i blednyj.
Menya Sud'ba v tu noch' ostanovila
(Sud'ba, ch'e imya takzhe znachit Skorb'),
Ona vnushila mne vzglyanut', pomedlit',
Vdohnut' v sebya volnen'e spyashchih roz.
I ne bylo ni zvuka, mir zabylsya,
Lyudskoj vrazhdebnyj mir, - lish' ya i ty, -
(Dvuh etih slov tak sladko sochetan'e!),
Ne spali - ya i ty. YA zhdal - ya medlil -
I v mig odin ischezlo vse krugom.
(Ne pozabud', chto sad byl zacharovan!)
I vot ugas zhemchuzhnyj svet luny,
I ne bylo izvilistyh tropinok,
Ni derna, ni derev'ev, ni cvetov,
I umer samyj zapah roz dushistyh
V ob®yatiyah lyubovnyh veterka.
Vse - vse ugaslo - tol'ko ty ostalas' -
Ne ty - no tol'ko blesk luchistyh glaz,
Ogon' dushi v tvoih glazah blestyashchih.
YA videl tol'ko ih - iv nih svoj mir -
YA videl tol'ko ih - chasy bezhali -
YA videl blesk ochej, smotrevshih v vys'.
O, skol'ko v nih legend zapechatlelos',
V nebesnyh sferah, polnyh divnyh char!
Kakaya skorb'! kakoe blagorodstvo!
Kakoj prostor vozvyshennyh nadezhd,
Kakoe more gordosti otvazhnoj -
I glubina sposobnosti lyubit'!
No chas nastal - i blednaya Diana,
Ujdya na zapad, skrylas' v oblakah,
V sebe taivshih grom i sumrak buri;
I, prizrakom, ty skrylas' v polut'me,
Sredi derev, kazavshihsya grobami,
Skol'znula i rastayala. Ushla.
No blesk tvoih ochej so mnoj ostalsya.
On ne hotel ujti - i ne ujdet.
I pust' menya pokinuli nadezhdy, -
Tvoi glaza svetili mne vo mgle,
Kogda v tu noch' domoj ya vozvrashchalsya,
Tvoi glaza blistayut mne s teh por
Skvoz' mrak tyazhelyh let i zazhigayut
V moej dushe svetil'nik chistyh dum,
Neugasimyj svetoch blagorodstva,
I, napolnyaya duh moj Krasotoj,
Oni goryat na Nebe nedostupnom;
Kolenopreklonennyj, ya molyus',
V bezmolvii nochej moih pechal'nyh,
Im - tol'ko im - i v samom bleske dnya
YA vizhu ih, oni ne ugasayut:
Dve nezhnye luchistye dennicy -
Dve chistye vechernie zvezdy.
(1895)
Perevod K. Bal'monta
40a. K |NNI
Slava nebu! byl krizis, -
Opasnost' proshla.
S bolezn'yu, chto gryzla,
CHto medlenno zhgla,
Ta, chto nazvana "ZHizn'yu",
Lihoradka proshla.
Grustno ya znayu,
CHto net bol'she sil;
Mne i chlenom ne dvinut',
YA lezhu, ya zastyl;
Nu, tak chto zhe! Mne luchshe,
Kogda ya zastyl.
YA pokoyus' tak mirno,
V posteli prostert,
CHto tot, kto posmotrit,
Podumaet: mertv, -
Zadrozhit, menya vidya,
Podumav: on - mertv.
Stenan'ya, stradan'ya,
Vzdohi, rydan'ya -
Utihli vdrug,
I serdca zhestokij,
Uzhasnyj, glubokij,
Serdca stuk.
Bolezn', i toshnoty,
I muki - proshli,
Lihoradki ischezli,
CHto cherep moj zhgli;
Te, chto nazvany "ZHizn'yu",
Lihoradki proshli.
I o! iz vseh pytok,
CHto byla vseh sil'nej,
Uspokoilas' zhazhda
V grudi moej,
Ta zhguchaya zhazhda
Proklyatyh strastej:
YA glotnul; i pogas on,
Neftyanoj ruchej!
YA glotnul chistoj vlagi,
CHto katilas', zhurcha,
Struilas' tak blizko
Pod nogoj, iz klyucha, -
Iz zemli, v neglubokoj
Peshchere klyucha.
I o! nikogda pust'
Ne podskazhet vam hmel',
CHto temno v moej kel'e,
CHto uzka v nej postel'.
Razve lyudi v inuyu
Lozhatsya postel'?
CHtoby spat', lish' v takuyu
Dolzhno lech' postel'.
Rassudok moj - Tantal -
V nej ispolnen grez,
Zabyl, ne zhaleet
O prelesti roz,
O volnen'yah pri vide
Mirt i roz.
Teper', kogda spit on,
I pokoj tak glubok,
Svyatej emu dyshit
Anyutin glazok;
Aromat zdes' on slyshit
Tvoj, Anyutin glazok!
Rozmarin zdes', i ruta,
I Anyutin glazok.
Tak, ya schastliv v posteli
Dyhaniem grez
I prelest'yu |nni,
Omytyj v kupeli
Aromatnyh volos -
Prekrasnoj |nni.
Poceluem sogretyj,
Laskoj nezhim, - na grud'
Preklonilsya ya k |nni,
CHtob tiho usnut', -
Ej na grud', slovno v nebo,
CHtob gluboko usnut'.
Svet pogashen; pokryt ya,
Postel' tepla.
|nni angelov molit,
Da hranyat oto zla,
Da hranit ih carica
Menya oto zla.
I lezhu ya spokojno,
V posteli prostert,
Lyubov' ee znaya,
A vy skazhete: mertv!
YA pokoyus' tak mirno,
V posteli prostert,
Lyubov'yu sogretyj,
A vam kazhetsya: mertv!
Vy, uvidya, drozhite,
Podumav: mertv!
I yarche serdce,
CHem n_a_ nebe zvezdy
Noch'yu vesennej
V nem svetit |nni!
Gorit razogreto,
Lyuboviyu |nni,
I mysl'yu i svetom
Glaz moej |nni!
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
41a. |LX-DORADO
On na kone,
V stal'noj brone;
V luchah i tenyah Ada,
Pesn' na ustah,
V dnyah i godah
Iskal on |l'-Dorado.
I stal on sed
Ot dolgih let,
Na serdce - teni Ada.
Iskal goda,
No net sleda
Strany toj - |l'-Dorado.
I on ustal,
V stepi upal...
Predstala Ten' iz Ada,
I on, bez sil,
Ee sprosil:
"O Ten', gde |l'-Dorado?"
"Na sklony cher-
nyh Lunnyh gor
Projdi, - gde teni Ada! -
V otvet Ona. -
Vo mgle bez dna -
Dlya smelyh - |l'-Dorado!"
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
42a. MOEJ MATERI
I angely, spesha v prostorah raya
Slova lyubvi drug drugu prosheptat',
Priznan'yami ognistymi szhigaya,
Nazvan'ya ne najdut nezhnej, chem "mat'".
Vot pochemu i vas tak zval vsegda ya:
Vy byli bol'she dlya menya, chem mat',
Vy v dushu dush voshli, - s teh por, kak, taya,
Virginiya vzneslas', chtob otdyhat'!
Moya rodnaya mat' skonchalas' rano,
Ona - mne zhizn' dala, vy dali - toj,
Kogo lyubil ya nezhno i bezgranno.
Vy bolee mne stali dorogoj
Tak beskonechno, kak v svyashchennoj drozhi,
Dushe - ona, chem zhizn' svoya dorozhe.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
43a. ANNABELX LI
Mnogo let, mnogo let proshlo
U morya, na krae zemli.
YA devushku znal, ya ee nazovu
Imenem Annabel' Li,
I zhila ona tol'ko odnoj mechtoj -
O moej i svoej lyubvi.
YA rebenok byl, i rebenok ona,
U morya na krae zemli,
No lyubili lyubov'yu, chto bol'she lyubvi,
My, ili Annabel' Li!
Serafimy krylatye s vysi nebes,
Ne zavidovat' nam ne mogli!
Potomu-to (davno, mnogo let nazad,
U morya na krae zemli)
Holoden, zhguch, veter iz tuch
Vdrug dohnul na Annabel' Li,
I rodnya ee, znatnaya, k nam snizoshla,
I kuda-to ee unesli,
Ot menya unesli, polozhili vo sklep,
U morya, na krae zemli.
Vpolovinu, kak my, serafimy nebes
Blazhennymi byt' ne mogli!
O, da! potomu-to (chto vedali vse
U morya na krae zemli)
Polnoch'yu zloj vihr' ledyanoj
Ohvatil i ubil moyu Annabel' Li!
No bol'she byla ta lyubov', chem u teh,
Kto perezhit' nas mogli,
Kto mudrost'yu nas prevzoshli,
I ni angely neba, - nikogda, nikogda! -
Ni demony s kraya zemli
Razluchit' ne mogli moyu dushu s dushoj
Prekrasnoj Annabel' Li!
I s luchami luny nishodyat sny
O prekrasnoj Annabel' Li,
I v zvezdah nebesa goryat, kak glaza
Prekrasnoj Annabel' Li,
I vsyu noch', i vsyu noch', ne ujdu ya proch',
YA vse s miloj, ya s nej, ya s zhenoj moej,
YA - v mogile, u kraya zemli,
Vo sklepe primorskoj zemli.
(1924)
Perevod V. Bryusova
Last-modified: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 16:29:11 GMT