Stiven Krejn. Polnoe sobranie stihotvorenij
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The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane
Perevod: Anatolij Kudryavickij, Andrej Sergeev, Vladimir Britanishskij
OCR: G.Kudryavcev
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The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane
Stiven Krejn
Polnoe
sobranie
stihotvorenij
v perevodah
Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Andreya Sergeeva
Vladimira Britanishskogo
Stihotvoreniya iz sbornika "CHernye vsadniki" - 1895 -
Black riders came from the sea.
There was clang and clang of spear and shield,
And clash and clash of hoof and heel,
Wild shouts and the wave of hair
In the rush upon the wind:
Thus the ride of Sin.
CHernye vsadniki primchalis' s morya.
Stuchali, zveneli podkovy i shpory,
Bryacali, gremeli shchity i laty,
Dikie kriki i razvevayushchiesya volosy
Smeshalis' v vihre.
Tak nachalos' nashestvie Greha.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
CHernye vsadniki s morya.
Lyazg, lyazg pik o shchity,
Stuk, stuk podkov i kopyt,
Dikie kriki i volny volos
Proneslis' po vetru:
Nabeg greha.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
Three little birds in a row
Sat musing.
A man passed near that place.
Then did the little birds nudge each other.
They said: "He thinks he can sing".
They threw back their heads to laugh.
With quaint countenances
They regarded him.
They were very curious,
Those three little birds in a row.
Tri malen'kie ptichki
Dremali, sidya ryadkom na vetke.
Nevdaleke prohodil chelovek.
Ptichki vstrepenulis'.
- Slyshite? On dumaet, chto sposoben pet'! -
Skazali oni drug drugu i zakatilis' smehom.
Potom oni dolgo smotreli emu vsled
S iskrennim sochuvstviem.
Oni byli tak zabavny,
|ti tri malen'kie ptichki!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter-bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."
V pustyne
YA vstretil cheloveka - nagogo, dikogo;
Sidya na kortochkah,
On derzhal v rukah svoe serdce
I gryz ego.
YA sprosil: - Vkusnoe li ono, drug?
- Ono gor'koe, gor'koe! - otvetil chelovek,
No mne nravitsya ego gryzt',
Potomu chto ono gor'koe
I potomu chto eto moe serdce.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
V pustyne
Nekto golyj, zveropodobnyj
Sidel na kortochkah,
Derzhal v rukah svoe serdce
I el ego.
YA sprosil: - CHto, vkusnoe? -
On otvetil: - Gor'koe - gor'koe,
No mne nravitsya,
CHto ono gor'koe,
Potomu chto eto moe serdce.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
Yes, I have a thousand tongues,
And nine and ninety-nine lie.
Though I strive to use the one,
It will make no melody at my will,
But is dead in my mouth.
Da, tysyacha yazykov u menya vo rtu,
No devyat'sot devyanosto devyat' lgut.
YA nadeyalsya, chto poslednij
Pomozhet mne propet' to, chto ya hochu,
No on zastyl vo rtu kak mertvyj.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Once there came a man
Who said:
"Range me all men of the world in rows."
And instandy
There was terrific clamor among the people
Against being ranged in rows.
There was a loud quarrel, world-wide.
It endured for ages;
And blood was shed
By those who would not stand in rows,
And by those who pined to stand in rows.
Eventually, the man went to death, weeping.
And those who stayed in bloody scuffle
Knew not great simplicity.
Odnazhdy vyiskalsya chelovek,
Skazavshij:
- Postrojte mne vseh lyudej na Zemle v sherengi!
Nemedlenno podnyalsya strashnyj shum -
Lyudi ne zhelali stroit'sya v sherengi.
Ves' mir ohvatila mezhdousobnaya vojna;
Ona prodolzhalas' dolgie gody.
Prolilas' krov' lyudej,
Terpelivo stoyashchih v sherengah
I ne soglasnyh v nih vstavat'.
V konce koncov tot chelovek, stenavshij ot straha,
Byl predan kazni.
Lyudi, perezhivshie eti krovavye vremena,
Izbavilis' ot byloj naivnosti.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
YAvilsya nekogda chelovek,
Skazavshij:
"Postrojte mne vseh lyudej vsego mira v sherengi".
I srazu
Uzhasnyj ropot nachalsya v narode
Protiv togo, chtoby stroit'sya v sherengi.
I shumnaya svara poshla po celomu miru,
I dlilas' ona vekami;
I krov' prolivali
Te, chto ne zhelali stoyat' v sherengah,
I te, chto zhazhdali stoyat' v sherengah.
I umer tot chelovek, i pered smert'yu plakal.
A te, chto vystoyali v krovavoj shvatke,
Tak i ne ponyali prostuyu istinu.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.
With the infinite skill of an all-master
Made He the hull and the sails,
Held He the rudder
Ready for adjustment.
Erect stood He, scanning His work proudly.
Then-at fateful time-a wrong called,
And God turned, heeding.
Lo, the ship, at this opportunity, slipped slyly,
Making cunning noiseless travel down the ways.
So that, forever rudderless, it went upon the seas
Going ridiculous voyages,
Making quaint progress,
Turning as with serious purpose
Before stupid winds.
And there were many in the sky
Who laughed at this thing.
Bog zabotlivo snaryadil korabl' mirozdaniya.
S prirozhdennoj snorovkoj mastera na vse ruki
Sladil on ostov i parusa,
Derzhal v rukah i rul',
Sobirayas' ego pridelat'.
Tut raspryamilsya Bog, s gordost'yu vziraya
na svoyu rabotu.
Vdrug - v eto rokovoe mgnoven'e -
ego po oshibke okliknuli
I on povernulsya uznat', v chem delo.
Korabl' zhe - smotrite-ka - uluchiv moment,
Myagko, besshumno soskol'znul v vodu.
S teh por, naveki lishennyj rulya,
plyvet on po moryam,
Sleduya nepredskazuemym kursom,
Zahodya sluchajno v gavani progressa,
Podchinyayas' lyuboj prihoti shal'nyh vetrov,
Slovno golosu razuma.
I mnogie na nebesah
Poteshayutsya nad etim.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Gospod' postroil korabl' mirozdan'ya tshchatel'no.
So vsej iskusnost'yu velichajshego mastera
Sdelal On korpus i parusa,
I rul' derzhal On v rukah,
Sobirayas' ego priladit'.
I stoyal On gordo, lyubuyas' svoej rabotoj.
I tut, v rokovuyu minutu, chto-to sluchilos',
Bog povernulsya vzglyanut', v chem delo,
Korabl' uluchil moment i, lovkij, lukavyj,
Tihon'ko-tihon'ko - shast'
- i skol'znul so stapelya,
I, navek ostavshijsya bez rulya, poshel po moryam,
Bluzhdaya prichudlivymi putyami,
Sovershaya strannye evolyucii,
Sleduya samym ser'eznym obrazom
Durostyam vetrov.
I byli mnogie na nebe,
Smeyavshiesya nad etim.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Mystic shadow, bending near me,
Who art thou?
Whence come ye?
And-tell me-is it fair
Or is the truth bitter as eaten fire?
Tell me!
Fear not that I should quaver,
For I dare-I dare.
Then, tell me!
O tainstvennaya ten', nerazluchnaya so mnoyu,
Kto ty?
Otkuda ty yavilas'?
Skazhi mne, torzhestvuet li spravedlivost',
Ili tebe vedomo nechto,
zhgushchee tebya, kak raskalennyj ugol'?
Pover' mne svoyu tajnu!
Ne bojsya, ya ne orobeyu,
U menya dostanet muzhestva.
Itak, rasskazhi mne vse!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I looked here;
I looked there;
Nowhere could I see my love.
And-this lime-
She was in my heart.
Truly, then, I have no complaint,
For though she be fair and fairer,
She is none so fair as she
In my heart.
YA iskal vokrug,
YA iskal vdali;
Nigde ne mog ya najti sebe vozlyublennuyu.
No vse eto vremya
Lyubimaya byla v moem serdce.
YA ni o chem ne sozhaleyu -
Kak by prekrasna ni okazalas' moya izbrannica,
Ej nikogda ne sravnit'sya s toyu,
CHej obraz zhivet v moem serdce.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I stood upon a high place,
And saw, below, many devils
Running, leaping.
And carousing in sin.
One looked up, grinning,
And said: "Comrade! Brother!"
YA stoyal na vozvyshenii,
A vnizu bylo mnozhestvo chertej,
Begayushchih, skachushchih,
Upivayushchihsya Grehom.
Odin posmotrel vverh, usmehayas',
I skazal mne: - Tovarishch! Brat!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
Kogda b ogromnyj shar zemnoj ukatilsya proch',
Ostaviv posle sebya lish' chernyj uzhas,
Besprosvetnuyu noch',
Ni Bog, ni lyudi, ni mesto, gde ya okazhus', -
Vse eto ne imelo by dlya menya znacheniya,
Esli b ryadom ya videl tebya i tvoi belosnezhnye ruki,
I prezhde chem ischeznut', my proshli by dolgij put'.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
In a lonely place,
I encountered a sage
Who sat, all still,
Regarding a newspaper.
He accosted me:
"Sir, what is this?"
Then I saw that I was greater,
Aye, greater than this sage.
I answered him at once:
"Old, old man, it is the wisdom of the age."
The sage looked upon me with admiration.
V uedinennom meste
YA nabrel na mudreca,
Kotoryj spokojno sidel,
Perelistyvaya gazetu.
On sprosil menya:
- O gospodin, chto eto takoe?
Togda ya pochuvstvoval svoe prevoshodstvo,
Da, prevoshodstvo nad etim mudrecom.
YA totchas otvetil emu:
- O staryj, staryj chelovek, zdes' pishut to,
CHto v nash vek schitaetsya mudrost'yu.
Mudrec posmotrel na menya s voshishcheniem.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
V uedinennom meste
YA vstretil mudrogo muzha,
Kotoryj sidel v razdum'e,
Razglyadyvaya gazetu.
On obratilsya ko mne:
"Sudar', chto eto za veshch'?"
I ya uvidel, chto ya umnee,
Da, da, umnee etogo mudrogo muzha.
YA otvetil emu mgnovenno:
"Starik, eto razum nashego veka".
Mudrec posmotrel na menya s voshishchen'em.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
"And the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the
heads of the children, even unto the third and fourth
generation of them that hate me."
Well, then, I hate Thee, unrighteous picture;
Wicked image, I hate Thee;
So, strike with Thy vengeance
The heads of those little men
Who come blindly.
It will be a brave thing.
I grehi otcov padut na golovy
detej vplot' do tret'ego i
chetvertogo kolena nenavidyashchih menya.
Da, potomu ya nenavizhu tebya, nepravednyj kumir,
Zlobnyj idol, ya nenavizhu tebya.
Tak bej zhe, mstitel'nyj Bog,
Po golovam mladencev,
CHto yavlyayutsya na svet ne po svoej vole.
|to ved' stol' doblestnoe deyanie!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
If there is a witness to my little life,
To my tiny throes and struggles,
He sees a fool;
And it is not fine for gods to menace fools.
Esli est' tam, naverhu, kto-to
Nablyudayushchij za moej nezametnoj zhizn'yu,
Za moimi malen'kimi gorestyami i skromnymi pobedami,
On vidit pred soboj glupca.
No bogam ne podobaet gnevat'sya na glupcov.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was crimson clash of war.
Lands turned black and bare;
Women wept;
Babes ran, wondering.
There came one who understood not these things.
He said: "Why is this?"
Whereupon a million strove to answer him.
There was such intricate clamor of tongues,
That still the reason was not.
Gremel bagrovyj grom vojny.
Opustoshennaya zemlya pochernela,
ZHenshchiny plakali,
Deti metalis' v ispuge.
Vdrug ob®yavilsya chelovek,
Kotoryj ne mog postich' smysl proishodyashchego.
On sprosil: - Zachem vse eto?
Totchas milliony lyudej zahoteli emu otvetit'.
Podnyalsya nestrojnyj mnogogolosyj gvalt,
No otveta na etot vopros ne bylo.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Zvuchal bagryanyj gul vojny.
Zemlya chernela i chahla;
ZHenshchiny plakali;
Deti bezhali, oshelomlennye.
Odin chelovek ne videl, v chem zhe tut smysl.
On sprashival: "Radi chego?"
Zashumel million zhelavshih emu ob®yasnit'.
Takoj byl nechlenorazdel'nyj gvalt,
CHto smysla ne bylo slyshno.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
"Tell brave deeds of war."
Then they recounted tales:
"There were stern stands
And bitter runs for glory."
Ah, I think there were braver deeds.
- Rasskazhite o geroizme na vojne.
I oni rasskazyvali skazki:
- Soldaty stojko uderzhivali pozicii
I shli ternistymi dorogami k slave.
Ah, ya dumayu, tam sovershalis'
Bolee geroicheskie postupki!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Charity, thou art a lie,
A toy of women,
A pleasure of certain men.
In the presence of justice,
Lo, the walls of the temple
Are visible
Through thy form of sudden shadows.
Miloserdie, ty - lozh',
Igrushka dlya zhenshchin,
Zabava dlya inyh muzhchin.
V prisutstvii Spravedlivosti - smotrite-ka
Steny tvoego hrama prozrachny,
I skvoz' nih vidna tvoya sushchnost' -
Igra tenej.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There were many who went in huddled procession,
They knew not whither;
But, at any rate, success or calamity
Would attend all in equality.
There was one who sought a new road.
He went into direful thickets,
And ultimately he died thus, alone;
But they said he had courage.
Mnogo bylo lyudej, shagavshih tolpoyu.
Oni ne znali, kuda idut,
No chto by ih ni ozhidalo - uspeh ili neudacha -
|to stanovilos' ih obshchej sud'boj.
Byl odin chelovek, iskavshij novyj put'.
On zabrel v neprohodimye debri
I v konce koncov umer tam v odinochestve.
Ostal'nye priznali, chto on byl ne lishen muzhestva.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Bylo velikoe mnozhestvo dvigavshihsya tolpoyu,
Ne vedaya kuda;
No, kak by tam ni bylo, bedstvie ili pobedu
Oni podelyat na vseh.
Byl nekto odin, iskavshij novoj dorogi.
On zabrel v neveroyatnye debri,
I konchilos' tem, chto on tak i pogib, odin;
No, govoryat, on byl hrabr.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
In Heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
"What did you do?"
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said:
"And what did you do?"
The little blade answered: "Oh, my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them."
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
"Oh, best little blade of grass!" He said.
Na nebesah
Predstali pered Bogom
Malen'kie travinki.
- CHto vy svershili v zhizni? - sprosil on.
I vse, krome odnoj,
S gotovnost'yu nachali perechislyat'
Svoi zaslugi.
Lish' odna travinka
Stoyala pozadi, pristyzhennaya.
Nakonec Bog sprosil ee:
- A ty chto svershila v zhizni?
- Gospodi, - otvetila malen'kaya travinka, -
YA ne v silah eto pripomnit'.
Esli ya i delala chto-to horoshee,
To ne vedala etogo.
Tut Bog podnyalsya s trona
Vo vsem bleske svoego velichiya.
- O dostojnejshaya iz vseh travinok! - voskliknul on.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Na Nebe
Malen'kie travinki
Predstali pred Bogom.
- CHto vy sdelali v zhizni?
I vse travinki, krome odnoj,
Nachali bojko rashvalivat'
Svoi dobrodeteli.
A odna stoyala poodal',
Smushchennaya.
I Bog sprosil ee:
- A ty chto sdelala v zhizni? -
- Gospodi, - otvechala travinka, -
Esli ya hot' kogda
I sdelala dobroe delo,
To teper' nichego ne pomnyu. -
I Bog vo vsej svoej slave,
Vosstav s prestola, skazal ej:
- O luchshaya iz travinok!
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
A god in wrath
Was beating a man;
He cuffed him loudly
With thunderous blows
That rang and rolled over the earth.
All people came running.
The man screamed and struggled,
And bit madly at the feet of the god.
The people cried:
"Ah, what a wicked man!"
And-
"Ah, what a redoubtable god!"
Bog v gneve
Izbival cheloveka,
Nanosil emu
Oglushitel'nye, gromopodobnye udary;
Ves' shar zemnoj hodil hodunom.
Otovsyudu sbezhalis' lyudi.
CHelovek krichal, otbivalsya
I v isstuplenii kusal Boga za nogi.
Lyudi vosklicali:
- Ah, kakoj nehoroshij chelovek!
I dobavlyali:
- Ah, kakoj groznyj Bog!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A learned man came to me onge.
He said: "I know the way,-come."
And I was overjoyed at this.
Together we hastened.
Soon, too soon, were we
Where my eyes were useless,
And I knew not the ways of my feet.
I clung to the hand of my friend;
But at last he cried: "I am lost."
Odnazhdy prishel ko mne uchenyj chelovek.
On skazal: - YA znayu put'. Pojdem!
YA ochen' obradovalsya.
Ne teryaya vremeni, my otpravilis' v dorogu.
Skoro, ochen' skoro ochutilis' my tam,
Gde glaza moi nichego ne videli
I ya ne znal, kuda stupayu.
YA krepko derzhalsya za ruku moego druga,
No v konce koncov on vskrichal: - YA pogib!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was, before me,
Mile upon mile
Of snow, ice, burning sand.
And yet I could look beyond all this,
To a place of infinite beauty;
And I could see the loveliness of her
Who walked in the shade of the trees.
When I gazed,
All was lost
But this place of beauty and her.
When I gazed.
And in my gazing, desired,
Then came again
Mile upon mile,
Of snow, ice, burning sand.
Predo mnoyu
Na sotni mil'
Prostiralis' snega, l'dy, raskalennye peski.
No ya sumel zaglyanut' eshche dal'she -
I otkrylas' mne tam pervozdannaya krasota;
Zametil ya i prelest' toj,
CHto progulivalas' v teni derev'ev.
Kogda glyadel ya na eto -
Vse vokrug merklo
Pered krasotoyu teh mest i Ee krasotoyu.
Kogda glyadel ya na eto,
Ustremivshis' tuda dushoj, -
Vnov' stali vidny mne
Prostirayushchiesya na sotni mil'
Snega, l'dy, raskalennye peski.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Predo mnoyu,
Milya za milej,
Byli snega i l'dy i zhguchij pesok.
No vzglyadom ya dosyagal iz etih predelov
Do beskonechno prekrasnyh mest;
I mog ya uvidet' ee, vo vsej krasote,
Gulyashchuyu pod sen'yu derev'ev.
Kogda ya glyadel,
Vse ischezalo,
Krome nee i etih prekrasnyh mest.
Kogda ya glyadel
I, zaglyadevshijsya, grezil.
A potom opyat' predo mnoyu,
Milya za milej,
Byli snega i l'dy i zhguchij pesok.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Once I saw mountains angry,
And ranged in battle-front.
Against them stood a little man;
Aye, he was no bigger than my finger.
I laughed, and spoke to one near me:
"Will he prevail?"
"Surely," replied this other;
"His grandfathers beat them many times."
Then did I see much virtue in grandfathers,
At least, for the little man
Who stood against the mountains.
Odnazhdy ya uvidel, kak rasserzhennye gory
Vystroilis' v boevom poryadke, -
Im brosil vyzov malen'kij chelovechek;
Pover'te, on byl rostom chut' li ne s moyu ladon'.
YA zasmeyalsya i sprosil soseda:
- Neuzhto on voz'met verh?
- Konechno, - otvetil tot, -
Ego predki pokoryali ih mnogo raz.
Togda ya ponyal, kak polezno imet' takih predkov;
Po krajnej mere, dlya malen'kogo cheloveka,
Kotoromu protivostoyat gory.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Odnazhdy ya videl, kak gory gnevalis'
I vystraivalis' v boevoj poryadok.
Protiv nih stoyal malen'kij chelovechek;
Ej-ej, on byl ne bol'she moego pal'ca.
YA rassmeyalsya i skazal odnomu poblizosti:
"Razve on odoleet?".
"Razumeetsya, - vozrazil mne tot, -
Ego dedy bivali ih ne edinozhdy".
I ya uvidel, chto est'-taki doblest' v dedah, -
Po krajnej mere, dlya malen'kogo chelovechka,
Stoyashchego protiv ogromnyh gor.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Places among the stars,
Soft gardens near the sun,
Keer your distant beauty;
Shed no beams upon my weak heart.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Not your golden days
Nor your silver nights
Can call me to you.
Since she is here
In a place of blackness,
Here I stay and wait.
Luzhajki sredi zvezd,
Tihie sady bliz Solnca,
Ne manite menya svoej dal'nej krasotoj,
Ne struite luchi na moe bezzashchitnoe serdce.
S teh por kak Ona zdes',
V etom sredotochii t'my,
Ne prel'shchaet menya
Ni vashe poludennoe zoloto,
Ni serebristoe siyan'e vashih nochej.
S teh por kak Ona zdes',
V etom sredotochii t'my,
Stoyu i ya zdes' v ozhidanii.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
"It is futile," I said,
"You can never-"
"You lie," he cried,
And ran on.
YA vstretil cheloveka, chto gnalsya za Gorizontom
Tak i bezhal za nim vokrug sveta.
Menya ohvatilo volnenie.
YA obratilsya k nemu:
- Poslushaj, - skazal ya, - eto pustaya zateya.
Tebe nikogda ne udastsya...
- Lzhesh'! - kriknul on
I pobezhal dal'she.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
CHelovek gnalsya za gorizontom,
Gorizont ot nego uskol'zal.
YA uvidel, vstrevozhilsya
I skazal cheloveku:
- |to nemyslimo,
Ty nikogda...
- Vresh'! - kriknul on
I prodolzhil pogonyu.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.
There came a drooping maid with violets,
But the spirit grasped her arm.
"No flowers for him," he said.
The maid wept:
"Ah, I loved him."
But the spirit, grim and frowning;
"No flowers for him."
Now, this is it -
If the spirit was just,
Why did the maid weep?
Vzglyani - vot mogila greshnika;
Ee sterezhet neumolimyj duh.
Pechal'naya deva podoshla k mogile s buketom fialok,
Odnako duh ostanovil ee ruku.
- Nikakih cvetov emu, - skazal duh.
Deva zaplakala:
- Ah! YA ego lyubila.
No duh, mrachnyj i nepreklonnyj, povtoril;
- Nikakih cvetov emu!
Teper' rassudi -
Esli duh postupil po spravedlivosti,
Pochemu zhe plakala deva?
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was set before me a mighty hill,
And long days I climbed
Through regions of snow.
When I had before me the summit-view,
It seemed that my labor
Had been to see gardens
Lying at impossible distances.
Ogromnaya gora vozvyshalas' predo mnoyu,
Mnogo dnej ya vzbiralsya po sklonu ee,
Pokrytomu vechnymi snegami.
Kogda vzoshel ya na vershinu i oglyadelsya,
Okazalos', chto ya karabkalsya na goru lish' zatem,
CHtoby uvidet' prekrasnye sady,
Do kotoryh mne nikogda ne dojti.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A youth in apparel that glittered
Went to walk in a grim forest.
There he met an assassin
Attired all in garb of old days;
He, scowling through the thickets,
And dagger poised quivering.
Rushed upon the youth.
"Sir," said this latter,
"I am enchanted, believe me,
To die, thus,
In this medieval fashion,
According to the best legends;
Ah, what joy!"
Then took he the wound, smiling,
And died, content.
YUnosha v bogatom, sverkayushchem odeyanii
Otpravilsya na progulku v dremuchij les.
Tam povstrechal on ubijcu,
Oblachennogo v srednevekovyj kostyum.
Zametiv za kustami yunoshu,
Ubijca rinulsya na nego
S zanesennym kinzhalom.
- Ser, - skazal yunosha, -
Pover'te, ya vsegda mechtal
Vstretit' smert' vot tak,
Na starinnyj lad,
Tochno v drevnej legende.
Ah, kak ya rad!
On s ulybkoj podstavil grud' pod udar kinzhala
I umer, udovletvorennyj.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
Often have I been to it,
Even to its highest tower,
From whence the world looks black."
"Trurh," said a traveller,
"Is a breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom;
Long have I pursued it,
But never have I touched
The hem of its garment."
And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.
- Pravda, - skazal strannik, -
Pohozha na gornyj pik, na krepostnuyu bashnyu.
YA chasto byval tam,
Na samoj vershine,
Otkuda ves' mir kazhetsya chernym.
- Pravda, - skazal drugoj strannik, -
Pohozha na vzdoh, na legkij veterok,
Neulovimuyu ten' ili viden'e.
Dolgo ya gnalsya za neyu,
No ni razu ne kosnulsya
Dazhe kraya ee odeyaniya.
I poveril ya vtoromu stranniku,
Potomu chto Pravda byla dlya menya
Vzdohom, legkim veterkom,
Neulovimoj ten'yu, viden'em,
I ni razu ne kosnulsya ya
Dazhe kraya ee odeyaniya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Behold, from the land of the farther suns
I returned.
And I was in a reptile-swarming place,
Peopled, otherwise, with grimaces,
Shrouded above in black impenelrableness.
I shrank, loathing.
Sick with it.
And I said to him:
"What is this?"
He made answer slowly:
"Spirit, this is a world;
This was your home."
Vot vernulsya ya iz strany dalekih solnc
I okazalsya v takom meste,
Gde kishmya kisheli gady.
Oni shipeli, polzali, izvivalis',
Pytayas' preodolet' nezrimuyu pregradu.
YA otpryanul v otvrashchenii -
Zrelishche bylo toshnotvornoe.
Potom ya sprosil:
- Gospodi, chto eto takoe?
Posledoval netoroplivyj otvet:
- O dusha, eto mir;
Zdes' ty zhila,
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Supposing that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
My sinful blood,
What can you offer me?
A gardened castle?
A flowery kingdom?
What? A hope?
Then hence with your red sword of virtue.
Ty polagaesh', chto ya dolzhen, nabravshis' muzhestva,
Dopustit', chtoby alyj mech Dobrodeteli
Vonzilsya v moe serdce,
Prolivaya na travu
Moyu greshnuyu krov'.
CHto zhe ty predlozhish' mne za eto?
Dvorec, utopayushchij v zeleni?
Bogatoe korolevstvo?
CHto? Nadezhdu?
I s nej, konechno, tvoj alyj mech Dobrodeteli?
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Many workmen
Built a huge ball of masonry
Upon a mountain-top.
Then they went to the valley below,
And turned to behold their work.
"It is grand," they said;
They loved the thing.
Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.
Artel' rabochih
Soorudila ogromnyj kamennyj shar
Na vershine gory.
Potom truzheniki spustilis' v dolinu
I, obernuvshis', stali lyubovat'sya delom ruk svoih.
- |to grandiozno, - govorili oni.
Im nravilos' ih tvorenie.
Vdrug shar kachnulsya i pokatilsya vniz;
On mgnovenno nastig lyudej
I razdavil ih vseh.
Nekotorye, pravda, uspeli vskriknut'.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Mnogie kamenshchiki
Slozhili ogromnyj kirpichnyj shar
Na vershine gory.
Zatem oni spustilis' v dolinu
I obozreli svoe tvorenie.
- Velichestvenno, - skazali oni;
SHar im nravilsya.
I vdrug on pokachnulsya
I pokatilsya na nih
I mgnovenno vseh razdavil.
No nekotorye uspeli vzvizgnut'.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
Two or three angels
Came near to the earth.
They saw a fat church.
Little black streams of people
Came and went in continually.
And the angels were puzzled
To know why the people went thus,
And why they stayed so long within.
Dva ili tri angela
Proletali nizko nad zemlej.
Oni uvideli roskoshnyj hram;
K nemu so vseh storon
Uzkimi temnymi ruchejkami stekalis' lyudi
I ischezali vnutri.
Angely ne mogli ponyat',
Pochemu vse lyudi idut v odno i to zhe mesto
I ostayutsya tam tak dolgo.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was One I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said: "Show me of your wares."
And I did,
Holding forth one.
He said: "It is a sin."
Then I held forth another.
He said: "It is a sin."
Then I held forth another.
He said: "It is a sin."
And so to the end.
Always He said:"It is a sin."
At last, I cried out:
"But I have none other."
He looked at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul," He said.
Vo vremya stranstvij ya vstretil cheloveka.
On posmotrel na menya uchastlivo i skazal:
- Pokazhi, nad chem ty trudish'sya.
YA dostal iz meshka
Odno iz moih izdelij.
CHelovek skazal: - |to greh.
Togda ya izvlek drugoe.
CHelovek skazal: - I eto greh.
YA pokazal emu eshche odno.
On skazal: - |to tozhe greh.
I tak do samogo konca
On vse vremya povtoryal: - |to greh.
Nakonec ya vskrichal:
- No u menya bol'she nichego net!
On posmotrel na menya
S angel'skoj dobrotoj
I proiznes: - Bednaya dusha!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I stood upon a highway,
And, behold, there came
Many strange pedlers.
To me each one made gestures,
Holding forth little images, saying;
"This my pattern of God.
Now this is the God I prefer."
But I said: "Hence!
Leave me with mine own,
And take you yours away;
I can't buy of your patterns of Cod,
The little gods you may rightly prefer."
YA stoyal na prigorke,
I stolpilis' vokrug menya
Strannogo vida brodyachie torgovcy.
Kazhdyj podaval mne znaki,
Protyagival malen'kij obrazok
I govoril: - Vot izobrazhenie moego Boga.
|to Bog, kotorogo predpochitayu ya.
Togda ya kriknul im: - Proch'!
Uberite vashi obrazki,
Ostav'te mne moego sobstvennogo Boga.
YA ne mogu pokupat' izobrazheniya chuzhih bogov,
Pust' dazhe vy iskrenne v nih verite.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A man saw a ball of gold in the sky,
He climbed for it,
And eventually he achieved it -
It was clay.
Now this is the strange part:
When the man went to the earth
And looked again,
Lo, there was the ball of gold.
Now this is the strange part:
It was a ball of gold.
Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.
CHelovek uvidel v nebe zolotoj shar.
On stal vzbirat'sya na nebo
I nakonec dobralsya do shara.
Tot okazalsya glinyanym.
No vot chto stranno:
Kogda chelovek spustilsya na zemlyu
I snova posmotrel vverh -
SHar opyat' byl zolotym.
O chudo! |to byl zolotoj shar.
Klyanus' nebesami!
|to byl zolotoj shar.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
CHelovek uvidal v nebe zolotoj shar;
On polez za nim
I v konce koncov dobralsya k nemu -
SHar byl glinyanyj.
I vot chto stranno:
Kogda chelovek vernulsya na zemlyu
I opyat' posmotrel v nebo,
Tam byl zolotoj shar.
I vot chto stranno:
|to byl zolotoj shar.
Klyanus' nebom, eto byl zolotoj shar.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
I met a seer.
He held in his hands
The book of wisdom.
"Sir," I addressed him,
"Let me read."
"Child-" he began.
"Sir," I said,
"Think not that I am a child,
For already I know much
Of that which you hold.
Aye, much."
He smiled.
Then he opened the book
And held it before me.-
Strange that I should have grown so suddenly blind.
YA vstretil proroka.
V rukah on derzhal
Knigu mudrosti.
- O gospodin, - obratilsya ya k nemu,
Pozvol' mne zaglyanut' v nee.
- Ditya... - nachal on.
- O mudrec, - perebil ya ego, -
Ne dumaj, chto ya rebenok, -
YA ved' mnogoe uzhe znayu
Iz togo, chto zdes' napisano.
Da, mnogoe!
On zasmeyalsya,
Potom raskryl knigu
Pered moimi glazami.
Udivitel'naya veshch': ya srazu oslep.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
YA vstretil proroka.
On derzhal v rukah
Knigu mudrosti.
- Gospodin, - poprosil ya, -
Pozvol' pochitat'.
- Ditya, - nachal on.
- Gospodin, - perebil ya, -
Ne dumaj, chto ya ditya,
Ibo ya uzhe znayu mnogo
Iz togo, chto ty derzhish';
Da, mnogo.
On ulybnulsya
I on otkryl svoyu knigu
I pokazal mne.
Stranno, chto ya tak vnezapno oslep.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
On the horizon the peaks assembled;
And as I looked,
The march of the mountains began.
As they marched, they sang:
"Aye! We come! We come!"
Na gorizonte sgrudilis' skaly.
Stoilo mne vzglyanut' tuda -
Gory poshli v nastuplenie.
Priblizhayas', oni peli:
- Smotri! My idem! My idem!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Na gorizonte gory gruppirovalis';
I poka ya glyadel,
|ti giganty dvinulis' v nastuplen'e.
Dvigayas', oni peli:
"Da! My pridem! My pridem!".
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
The ocean said to me once:
"Look!
Yonder on the shore
Is a woman, weeping.
I have watched her.
Go you and tell her this,-
Her lover I have laid
In cool green hall.
There is wealth of golden sand
And pillars, coral-red;
Two white fish stand guard at his bier.
"Tell her this
And more,-
That the king of the seas
Weeps too, old, helpless man.
The bustling fates
Heap his hands with corpses
Until he stands like a child
With surplus of toys."
Okean skazal mne odnazhdy:
- Smotri!
Von tam, na beregu,
Rydaet zhenshchina.
YA vse glyazhu na nee...
Pojdi i skazhi ej vot chto:
Ee vozlyublennogo ulozhil ya
V moih prohladnyh zelenyh chertogah
Na lozhe iz zolotogo peska,
Mezhdu krasnyh korallovyh kolonn;
Dve belye ryby stoyat na strazhe u izgolov'ya.
Skazhi ej eto
I dobav' eshche, chto car' morskoj.
Dryahlyj, bespomoshchnyj starec,
Plachet tozhe.
Neterpelivyj Rok
Slozhil emu na ruki stol'ko mertvyh tel,
CHto on teper' napominaet rebenka,
Stoyashchego s grudoj igrushek.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
The livid lightnings flashed in the clouds;
The leaden thunders crashed.
A worshipper raised his arm.
"Hearken! Hearken! The voice of God!"
"Not so," said a man.
"The voice of God whispers in the heart
So softly
That the soul pauses,
Making no noise,
And strives for these melodies,
Distant, sighing, like faintest breath,
And all the being is still to hear."
Ognennye niti molnij sverkali sredi tuch,
Razdavalsya olovyannyj grohot groma.
Bogomolec vozdel ruki:
- Vnimajte! Vnimajte! Vot on, golos Boga!
- Nepravda, - skazal chelovek, -
Golos Boga zvuchit v nashih serdcah nezhnym shepotom;
On nastol'ko tih,
CHto dusha zamiraet, prislushivayas',
I zhadno lovit melodichnye zvuki,
Dalekie, ele slyshnye, pohozhie na legkie vzdohi;
V takie minuty my zastyvaem,
Vsecelo obrativshis' v sluh.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
And you love me?
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved,
When I strive to come to you,
Man's opinions, a thousand thickets,
My interwoven existence,
My life,
Caught in the stubble of the world
Like a tender veil,-
This stays me.
No strange move can I make
Without noise of tearing.
I dare not.
If love loves,
There is no world
Nor word.
All is lost
Save thought of love
And place to dream.
You love me?
I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but, beloved -
- I ty lyubish' menya?
- YA lyublyu tebya.
- Togda ty prosto trus.
- Da, no poslushaj, lyubimaya,
Kogda ya stremlyus' k tebe,
Lyudskie peresudy, beschislennye terniya,
Neustojchivost' moego polozheniya,
ZHizn' moya,
Opletennaya nezrimymi putami,
Slovno pojmannaya v set', -
Vse eto ostanavlivaet menya.
Ni odnogo nevernogo shaga nel'zya mne sdelat'
Inache vozniknet nevoobrazimyj skandal.
YA ne mogu reshit'sya.
- Kogda lyubish',
Ne sushchestvuet dlya tebya ni mir,
Ni lyudskaya molva;
Ne sushchestvuet nichego,
Krome samoj lyubvi
I myslej o nej.
Ty lyubish' menya?
- YA lyublyu tebya.
- Togda ty prosto trus.
- Da, no poslushaj, lyubimaya...
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Love walked alone.
The rocks cut her tender feet,
And the brambles tore her fair limbs.
There came a companion to her,
But, alas, he was no help,
For his name was Heart's Pain.
Lyubov' hodila po svetu odna.
Ostrye kamni ranili ee nezhnye stupni,
SHipy carapali ee prekrasnoe telo.
Potom u nee poyavilsya sputnik,
No uvy, on nichem ne mog ej pomoch' -
Ved' imya ego bylo Stradanie.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I walked in a desert.
And I cried:
"Ah, God, take me from this place!"
A voice said: "It is no desert."
I cried: "Well, but -
The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon."
A voice said: "It is no desert."
YA brel po beskrajnej pustyne.
I vozopil ya:
- Bozhe, vyvedi menya otsyuda!
Golos otvetil: - |to ne pustynya.
YA vskrichal: - No posmotri zhe -
Pesok, zhara, golyj gorizont...
Golos povtoril: - |to ne pustynya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
YA bluzhdal v pustyne.
I voskliknul:
"Gospodi, voz'mi menya otsyuda!"
Golos promolvil: "|to ne pustynya".
YA voskliknul:
"Da, no -
|tot pesok, etot znoj, etot pustoj gorizont".
Golos promolvil: "|to ne pustynya".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
There came whisperings in the winds:
"Good-bye! "Good-bye!
Little voices called in the darkness:
"Good-bye! "Good-bye!
Then I stretched forth my arms.
"No- No-"
There came whisperings in the wind:
"Good-bye! "Good-bye!
Little voices called in the darkness:
"Good-bye! "Good-bye!
Do menya donessya shepot vetra:
- Proshchaj! Proshchaj!
Tihie golosa povtoryali vo t'me:
- Proshchaj! Proshchaj!
YA proster pred soboyu ruki.
YA voskliknul: - Net! Net!
Do menya donessya shepot vetra:
- Proshchaj! Proshchaj!
Tihie golosa povtoryali vo t'me:
- Proshchaj! Proshchaj!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I was in the darkness;
I could not see my words
Nor the wishes of my heart.
Then suddenly there was a great light
"Let me into the darkness again."
YA prebyval vo t'me;
YA byl nesposoben obdumyvat' moi slova
I ponimat' ustremleniya moego serdca.
Potom vdrug zazhegsya oslepitel'nyj svet.
- Vernite menya opyat' vo t'mu!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
YA prebyval vo t'me;
YA ne videl ni moih slov,
Ni zhelanij moego serdca.
Zatem vnezapno yavilsya velikij svet...
"Verni menya obratno vo t'mu".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Tradition, thou art for suckling children.
Thou art the enlivening milk for babes;
Bot no meat for men is in thee.
Then -
But, alas, we all are babes.
Tradicii, vy - dlya grudnyh detej;
Vy - moloko dlya mladencev,
No ne pishcha dlya vzroslyh lyudej.
Poetomu...
No uvy, vse my - mladency.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Tradiciya, ty dlya grudnyh detej,
Ty zhivitel'noe moloko dlya mladencev,
No uzh nikak ne myaso dlya muzhchin.
Tak, stalo byt' -
No, k sozhalen'yu, my vse mladency.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Many red devils ran from my heart
And out upon the page.
They were so tiny
The pen could mash them.
And many struggled in the ink.
It was strange
To write in this red muck
Of things from my heart.
Mnozhestvo krasnyh d'yavolov
Vyplesnulos' na stranicu iz moego serdca.
Oni byli takimi kroshechnymi,
CHto ya mog razdavit' ih perom.
Eshche mnogie barahtalis' v chernil'nice.
Stranno bylo
Pisat' etim krasnym mesivom,
Okrashennym krov'yu moego serdca...
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Krasnye chertiki prygali iz moego serdca
Pryamo na stranicu.
Takie kroshechnye,
CHto pero moglo by ih razmozzhit'.
I prodolzhali borot'sya v kaple chernil.
Stranno bylo
|toj merzostnoj krasnoj zhizhej
Izlivat' sokrovennosti serdca.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
"Think as I think," said a man,
"Or you are abominably wicked,
You are a toad."
And after I had thought of it,
I said: "I will, then, be a toad".
- Dumaj tak zhe, kak ya, - skazal chelovek,
Inache ty merzkij nechestivec,
Otvratitel'naya zhaba.
Porazmysliv, ya otvetil:
- V takom sluchae predpochitayu byt' zhaboj.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"Dumaj, kak dumayu ya, - skazal chelovek, -
A inache ty gnusnaya tvar';
Ty zhaba".
Podumavshi nemnogo, ya skazal:
"Pust' uzh ya budu zhaba".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Once there was a man, -
Oh, so wise!
In all drink
He detected the bitter,
And in all touch
He found the sting.
At last he cried thus:
"There is nothing, -
No life,
No joy,
No pain,-
There is nothing save opinion,
And opinion be damned."
ZHil odnazhdy chelovek -
Ax, kakoj mudrec!
Iz vseh napitkov
On predpochital samyj gor'kij,
Iz vseh prikosnovenij -
Ukol zhala.
V konce koncov on vskrichal:
- Nichego net -
Ni zhizni,
Ni radosti,
Ni boli, -
Nichego net, krome moih oshchushchenij,
Bud' oni proklyaty!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
ZHil-byl odin chelovek -
Oh, do chego zhe mudryj!
V kazhdom napitke
On obnaruzhival gorech',
V kazhdom prikosnovenii
Videl ozhog.
V konce koncov on voskliknul:
"Net nichego -
Ni zhizni,
Ni radosti,
Ni stradan'ya, -
Est' tol'ko mnenie,
A mnenie pust' katitsya k chertu".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
I stood musing in a black world,
Not knowing where to direct my feel.
And I saw the quick stream of men
Pouring ceaselessly,
Filled with eager faces,
A torrent of desire.
I called to them:
"Where do you go? What do you see?"
A thousand voices called to me.
A thousand fingers pointed.
"Look! Look! There!"
I know not of it.
But, lo! in the far shy shone a radiance
Ineffable, divine, -
A vision painted upon a pall;
And sometimes was,
And sometimes it was not.
I hesitated.
Then from the stream
Came roaring voices,
Impatient:
"Look! Look! There!"
So again I saw,
And leaped, unhesilant,
And struggled and fumed
With outspread clutching fingers.
The hard hills tore my flesh;
The ways bit my feet.
At last I looked again.
No radiance in the far sky,
Ineffable, divine,
No vision painted upon a pall;
And always my eyes ached for the light.
Then I cried in despair:
"I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?"
The torrent turned again its faces:
"Look! Look! There!"
And at the blindness of my spirit
They screamed:
"Fool! Fool! Fool!"
Ob®yatyj mrakom etogo mira,
YA stoyal, razmyshlyaya, kuda napravit' put'.
I uvidel ya, chto mimo menya
Neskonchaemym potokom dvigayutsya lyudi,
Vozbuzhdennye, s goryashchimi glazami;
Ih podgonyaet neterpenie.
YA sprosil:
- Kuda vy toropites'? CHto vy takoe uvideli?
Tysyachi golosov otvetili mne.
Tysyachi perstov ukazali:
- Smotri! - Smotri! Vot ono!
YA ne ponyal, o chem oni govoryat.
I vdrug na gorizonte nebo ozarilos' siyaniem,
Nevidannym, bozhestvennym,
Rascvetivshim svod nebesnogo shatra
Izumitel'nymi kraskami;
Ono to poyavlyalos',
To ischezalo.
YA stoyal v nereshitel'nosti.
I snova iz tolpy doneslis' do menya
Vzvolnovannye golosa:
- Smotri! Smotri! Vot ono!
YA opyat' vzglyanul -
I, otbrosiv kolebaniya, rinulsya vsled za
lyud'mi;
V yarosti ya prodiralsya skvoz' tolpu
S pomoshch'yu kulakov.
Na dorogah ya sbil nogi,
V gorah izranil telo.
Kogda v konce koncov ya vnov' posmotrel na
nebo,
Uzhe ne ozaryalos' ono siyaniem,
Nevidannym, bozhestvennym;
Mrachen byl svod nebesnogo shatra.
No glaza moi zhazhdali sveta.
Togda vskrichal ya v otchayan'i:
- YA nichego ne vizhu! O, kuda zhe ya idu?
Lyudi v tolpe snova pokazyvali mne:
- Smotri! Smotri! Vot ono!
I poteshalis' oni
Nad slepotoyu moej dushi:
- Glupec! Glupec! Glupec!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
You say you are holy,
And that
Because I have not seen you sin.
Aye, but there are those
Who see you sin, my friend.
Ty govorish' mne. chto ty pravednik,
Znaya, chto ya ne videl,
Kak ty greshish'.
Da, eto tak,
Zato drugie videli, drug moj.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A man went before a strange god, -
The god of many men, sadly wise.
And the deity thundered loudly,
Fat with rage, and puffing:
"Kneel, mortal, and cringe
And grovel and do homage
To my particularly sublime majesty."
The man fled.
Then the man went to another god,-
The god of his inner thoughts.
And this one looked at him
With soft eyes
Lit with infinite comprehension,
And said: "My poor child!"
CHelovek predstal pered strannym Bogom -
Bogom mnogih lyudej, mudrym i potomu pechal'nym.
Bozhestvo totchas progrohotalo gromovym golosom,
Razduvayas' i pyhtya ot yarosti:
- Na koleni, smertnyj! Povergnis' vo prah!
Presmykayas', dolzhen ty yavit' pochtenie
Pred moej vysochajshej osoboj!
CHelovek pustilsya nautek.
Potom prishel on k drugomu Bogu -
Bogu ego sobstvennyh myslej.
|tot Bog posmotrel na nego,
I uvlazhnivshiesya glaza ego
Zasvetilis' dobrotoyu i ponimaniem.
On skazal: - Moe bednoe ditya!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
Go pluck a bough and wear it.
It is as sufficing.
My Lord, there are certain barbarians
Who tilt their noses
As if the stars were flowers,
And thy servant is lost among their shoe-buckles.
Fain would I have mine eyes even with their eyes.
Fool, go pluck a bough and wear it.
- Zachem ty stremish'sya k velichiyu, glupec?
Otlomi vetku i uvenchaj sebya.
Vot i vse, chto tebe nuzhno.
- Gospodi, vokrug - nastoyashchie varvary,
Oni zadirayut nosy k zvezdam,
Slovno k cvetam na nebe,
I rab tvoj zateryalsya sredi pryazhek ih bashmakov.
Po spravedlivosti ya dolzhen byt' ne nizhe ih.
- Glupec, otlomi vetku i uvenchaj sebya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I
Blustering god,
Stamping across the sky
With loud swagger,
I fear you not.
No, though from your highest heaven
You plunge your spear at my heart,
I fear you not.
No, not if the blow
Is as the lightning blasting tree,
I fear you not, puffing braggart.
II
If thou can see into my heart
That I fear thee not,
Thou wilt see why I fear thee not,
And why it is right.
So threaten not, thou, with thy bloody spears,
Else thy sublime ears shall hear curses.
III
Withal, there is one whom I fear;
I fear to see grief upon that face.
Perchance, friend, he is not your god;
If so, spit upon him.
By it you will do no profanity.
But I -
Ah, sooner would I die
Than see tears in those eyes of my soul.
I
Kichlivyj Bog,
Oglushayushchij nebesa
Svoej gromoglasnoj pohval'boj,
YA ne boyus' tebya.
Pust' s nebesnyh vysot
Celish' ty kop'em v moe serdce,
YA ne boyus' tebya.
Dazhe esli udar tvoj
Podoben molnii, szhigayushchej derev'ya,
YA ne boyus' tebya, napyshchennyj hvastun,
II
Esli b ty smog prochest' v moem serdce,
CHto ya ne boyus' tebya,
Ty ponyal by, pochemu net vo mne straha
I pochemu eto pravil'no.
Tak ne grozi zhe mne svoimi okrovavlennymi kop'yami,
Inache vysochajshie ushi tvoi uslyshat proklyatiya.
III
No est' vse zhe nekto, pred kem ya trepeshchu,
Na ch'em lice boyus' uvidet' pechal'.
Vozmozhno, drug, eto ne tvoe bozhestvo;
Esli tak, plyun' na nego,
Ty etim ne svershish' svyatotatstva.
No ya...
Ah, ya skoree umru,
CHem uvizhu slezy na glazah moej dushi!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"It was wrong to do this," said the angel
"You should live like a flower,
Holding malice like a puppy,
Waging war like a lambkin."
"Not so," quoth the man
Who had no fear of spirits;
"It is only wrong for angels
Who can live like the flowers,
Holding malice like the puppies,
Waging war like the lambkins."
- Ty sovershil durnoj postupok, - skazal angel,
Ty dolzhen zhit' kak cvetochek,
Byt' dobrym, kak shchenochek
I krotkim, kak yagnenochek.
- Ty ne prav, - otvetstvoval chelovek,
Ne ispytyvavshij straha pered nebozhitelyami, -
|to durnoj postupok lish' dlya angelov,
Kotorym nichto ne meshaet zhit' kak cvetochki,
Byt' dobrymi, kak shchenyata,
I krotkimi, kak yagnyata.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A man toiled on a burning road,
Never resting.
Once he saw a fat, stupid ass
Grinning at him from a green place.
The man cried out in rage:
"Ah! do not deride me, fool!
I know you -
All day stuffing your belly,
Burying your heart
In grass and tender sprouts:
It will not suffice you."
But the ass only grinned at him from the green place.
CHelovek brel po raskalennoj doroge,
Ne davaya sebe otdyha.
Kak-to raz na zelenoj luzhajke
Zametil on zhirnogo glupogo osla,
Tarashchivshegosya na nego i skalivshego zuby.
CHelovek vskrichal v yarosti:
- |j, ne smejsya nado mnoj, ostolop!
YA znayu tebya -
Ty celymi dnyami nabivaesh' sebe bryuho.
Vse, chto tebe nuzhno v zhizni, -
|to trava i molodye pobegi;
Skol'ko b ty ni s®el - tebe vse malo!
No osel lish' tarashchilsya na nego,
Stoya na zelenoj luzhajke.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A man feared that he might find an assassin,
Another that he might find a victim.
One was more wise than the other.
Odin chelovek boyalsya povstrechat' ubiicu,
Drugoj - najti ubitogo
Pervyj byl umnee
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
With eye and with gesture
You say you are holy.
I say you lie;
For I did see you
Draw away your coals
From the sin upon the hands
Of a little child.
Liar!
I vzglyadom, i zhestami
Ty pokazyvaesh', chto ty svyatoj.
No ya govoryu: - Ty lzhesh'! -
Ved' ya videl,
Kak ty sbrasyval s plech
Tyagoty svoih grehov
Na ruki malen'kogo rebenka.
Lzhec!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
The sage lectured brilliantly.
Before him, two images:
"Now this one is a devil,
And this one is me."
He turned away.
Then a cunning pupil
Changed the positions.
Turned the sage again:
"Now this one is a devil,
And this one is me."
The pupils sat, all grinning,
And rejoiced in the game.
But the sage was a sage.
Mudrec prepodaval blestyashche.
On postavil pred soboyu dvuh idolov:
- Predpolozhim, chto eto - d'yavol,
A eto - ya...
Tut on otvernulsya,
A prokazlivyj uchenik
Pomenyal idolov mestami.
Mudrec prodolzhal:
- Tak vot, predpolozhim, chto eto - d'yavol,
A eto - ya.
Ucheniki edva sderzhivali smeh,
Teshas' zabavoj.
No mudrec vse zhe ostalsya mudrecom.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Mudrec vrazumlyal iskusno.
Vot pered nim dva risunka:
"Pust' eto budet d'yavol,
A eto pust' budu ya".
I on otvernulsya.
Postrel-uchenik, radi shutki,
Pomenyal mestami risunki.
Mudrec povtoril, ne glyadya:
"Pust' eto budet d'yavol,
A eto pust' budu ya".
Ucheniki uhmylyalis',
Razbiral ih bezumnyj smeh.
No mudrec taki byl mudrec.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Walking in the sky,
A man in strange black garb
Encountered a radiant form.
Then his steps were eager;
Bowed he devoutly.
"My Lord," said he.
But the spirit knew him not.
Bluzhdaya po nebu,
CHelovek v strannom chernom odeyanii
Uzrel izluchavshuyu siyan'e figuru.
Zataiv dyhanie, podoshel on blizhe,
Otvesil pochtitel'nyj poklon.
- O moj Gospod'! - skazal on.
No tot ne znal ego.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Upon the road of my life,
Passed me many fair creatures,
Clothed all in white, and radiant.
To one, finally, I made speech:
"Who art thou?"
But she, like the others,
Kept cowled her face,
And answered in haste, anxiously:
"I am Good Deed, forsooth;
You have often seen me."
"Not uncowled," I made reply.
And with rash and strong hand,
Though she resisted,
I drew away the veil
And gazed at the features of Vanity.
She, shamefaced, went on;
And after I had mused a time,
I said of myself:
"Fool!"
Na doroge moej zhizni
CHasto vstrechalis' mne prelestnye sozdaniya,
Odetye vo vse beloe, izluchavshie siyan'e.
Kak-to raz sprosil ya odnu:
- Kto ty?
No ona, kak i drugie do nee,
Ne otkinula s lica vual'.
V volnenii progovorila ona toroplivo:
- YA - Dobroe Deyanie, pover' mne.
Ty chasto menya videl.
- Da, s zakrytym licom, - otvetil ya.
Bystrym, uverennym dvizheniem
Otstraniv ee ruki,
YA sorval s nee vual' -
I otkrylsya mne lik tshcheslaviya.
Pokrasnev ot styda, ona poshla dal'she.
Nemnogo porazmysliv,
YA skazal sebe:
"Glupec!"
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I
There was a man and a woman
Who sinned.
Then did the man heap the punishment
All upon the head of her,
And went away gayly.
II
There was a man and a woman
Who sinned.
And the man stood with her.
As upon her head, so upon his,
Fell blow and blow,
And all people screaming: "Fool!"
He was a brave heart.
III
He was a brave heart.
Would you speak with him, friend?
Well, he is dead,
And there went your opportunity.
Let it be your grief
That he is dead
And your opportunity gone;
For, in that, you were a coward.
I
Muzhchina i zhenshchina
ZHili vo grehe.
Rasplachivat'sya za eto
On predostavil ej,
A sam s legkim serdcem udalilsya proch'.
II
Muzhchina i zhenshchina
ZHili vo grehe.
No etot muzhchina ne ostavil zhenshchinu,
Kogda nad golovoj ee, kak i nad ego golovoj,
Razrazilas' groza,
I vse lyudi nasmehalis' nad nim: "Vot glupec!"
On byl smelyj chelovek.
III
On byl smelyj chelovek.
Hochesh' pogovorit' s nim, drug?
Da, ty prav, on umer
I eto uzhe nevozmozhno.
Penyaj na sebya,
CHto on umer
I ty upustil etu vozmozhnost', -
Ved' sam ty postupil kak trus.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,
This life glowed,
A dire red slain, indelible;
Yet when he was dead,
He saw that he had not lived.
ZHil na svete chelovek,
CH'ya zhizn' byla podobna fakelu v nochi.
Dazhe na palitre vremeni,
Gde bagryanec tak nezametno perehodit v zheltiznu,
A zheltizna - v bagryanec,
Ego zhizn' plamenela
Ognenno-krasnym nesmyvaemym pyatnom.
No umiraya,
On osoznal, chto tolkom i ne zhil.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was a great cathedral.
To solemn song,
A white procession
Moved toward the altar.
The chief man there
Was erect, and bore himself proudly.
Yet some could see him cringe,
As in a place of danger,
Throwing frightened glances into the air,
A-start at threatening faces of the past.
To byl velikij hram.
Pod zvuki torzhestvennyh pesnopenij
Belosnezhnaya processiya
Dvigalas' k altaryu.
CHelovek, povelevavshij vsemi,
Byl staten, derzhalsya gordo.
No koe-kto videl, kak on ezhilsya ot straha,
Slovno vblizi tailas' opasnost',
I brosal ispugannye vzglyady v prostranstvo,
Gde emu chudilis' ugrozhayushchie lica iz Proshlogo.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Why do you stand, expectant?
Do you hope to see it
In one of your withered days?
With your old eyes
Do you hope to see
The triumphal march of justice?
Do not wait, friend!
Take your white beard
And your old eyes
To more tender lands.
Drug, tvoya sedaya boroda kasaetsya zemli.
Pochemu stoish' ty v ozhidanii?
O chem mechtaesh' ty
Na sklone dnej tvoih?
Neuzheli nadeesh'sya
Uvidet' svoimi starymi glazami
Pobednyj marsh Spravedlivosti?
Ne zhdi etogo, drug!
Otpravlyajsya v put', sedoborodyj,
I ty uvidish' svoimi starymi glazami
Inoj, luchshij mir.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Drug, tvoya belaya boroda uzhe do zemli.
CHto zh ty stoish', upovayushchij?
Uzh ne nadeesh'sya li uzret' eto v®yave
V svoi vethie dni?
Uzh ne nadeesh'sya li uzret'
Svoimi dryahlymi glazami
Triumfal'nyj marsh spravedlivosti?
Drug ne zhdi.
Unosi svoyu beluyu borodu
I svoi dryahlye glaza
V bolee blagopriyatnye strany.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Once, I knew a fine song,
- It is true, believe me, -
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! they all flew away.
I cried: "Come back little thoughts!"
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.
Kogda-to ya znal chudesnuyu pesnyu,
- Pover'te mne, eto pravda -
Ee peli pticy,
Kotoryh derzhal ya v korzinke.
Kogda odnazhdy otkryl ya dvercu,
Bozhe! oni vse uleteli proch'.
YA vskrichal: - Vernites', moi malen'kie mysli!
No v otvet uslyshal tol'ko smeh.
Oni vzmyvali vse vyshe,
Poka ne stali kazat'sya mne gorst'yu peska,
Broshennoj mezhdu mnoyu i nebesami.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
If I should cast off this tattered coal,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant, -
What then?
Esli ya sbroshu s sebya etu ponoshennuyu odezhdu
I svobodnym ustremlyus' v nebesnye prostory;
Esli ya ne najdu tam nichego,
Krome neobozrimoj golubizny,
Bezmolvnoj, neodushevlennoj, -
CHto togda?
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
God lay dead in Heaven;
Angels sang the hymn of the end;
Purple winds went moaning,
Their wings drip-dripping
With blood
That fell upon the earth.
It, groaning thing,
Turned black and sank.
Then from the far caverns
Of dead sins
Came monsters, livid with desire.
They fought,
Wrangled over the world,
A morsel.
But of all sadness this was sad, -
A woman's arms tried to shield
The head of a sleeping man
From the jaws of the final beast.
Bog lezhal mertvym na nebesah;
Angely peli gimn proshchaniya;
Bagryanye vihri, zazyvaya,
Pronosilis' po nebu,
Iz kryl'ev ih sochilas' krov'
I kapala nazem'.
Pochernevshaya, topkaya zemlya
Izdavala stony.
I vot iz glubokih peshcher,
Gde pokoilis' grehi,
Vosstali zlobnye chudishcha s goryashchimi glazami.
Oni razbrelis' po svetu,
Pozhiraya vseh, kto popadalsya navstrechu.
Vse eto bylo uzhasno,
No strashnee vsego bylo videt',
Kak zhenshchina obhvatila rukami
Golovu spyashchego muzhchiny,
Pytayas' spasti ego ot pasti adskogo chudovishcha.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A spirit sped
Through spaces of night;
And as he sped, he called:
"God! God!"
He went through valleys
Of black death-slime,
Ever calling:
"God! God!"
Their echoes
From crevice and cavern
Mocked him:
"God! God! God!"
Fleetly into the plains of space
He went, ever calling:
"God! God!"
Eventually, then, he screamed,
Mad in denial:
"Ah, there is no God!"
A swift hand,
A sword from the sky,
Smote him,
And he was dead.
Dusha mchalas'
Skvoz' nochnoj mrak;
Na letu ona zvala:
- Bozhe! Bozhe!
Proletala ona nad chernymi
Dolinami Smerti,
Vse vremya vzyvaya:
- Bozhe! Bozhe!
|ho, obitayushchee v rasshchelinah skal,
Peredraznivalo ee
Na vse lady:
- Bozhe! Bozhe! Bozhe!
Vot vosparila dusha v nebesnye vysi,
Vse vremya vzyvaya:
- Bozhe! Bozhe!
Nakonec, obezumev ot takogo prenebrezheniya,
Ona v isstuplenii voskliknula:
- Ah, Boga, navernoe, net!
Totchas bystraya ruka,
Metnuv molniyu s nebes,
Pronzila ee -
I ispepelila.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Stihotvoreniya ne voshedshie v sborniki
"LEGENDS"
I
A man builded a bugle for the storms to blow.
The focussed winds hurled him afar.
He said that the instrument was a failure.
II
When the suicide arrived at the sky, the people
there asked him: "Why?"
He replied: "Because no one admired me."
III
A man said: "Thou tree!"
The tree answered with the same scorn: "Thoy man!
Thoy art greater ehan I only in thy possibilities."
IV
A warrior stood upon a peak and defied the stars.
A little magpie, happening there, desired the
soldier's plume, and so plucked it.
V
The wind that waves the blossoms sang, sang, sang
from age to age.
The flowers were made curious by this joy.
"Oh, wind," they said, "why sing you at your
labour, while we, pink beneficiaries, sing
not, but idle, idle, idle from age to age?"
"LEGENDY"
I
CHelovek postroil bol'shuyu trubu,
chtob v nee trubil veter.
SHkval sorval ee i umchal daleko-daleko.
CHelovek skazal, chto vo vsem vinovata truba.
II
Kogda samoubijca popal na nebo,
Tam ego sprosili: - Pochemu ty pokonchil s soboj?
- Potomu chto nikto mnoyu ne voshishchalsya, -
otvetil on.
III
CHelovek skazal: - Ty - derevo!
Derevo otvetilo tak zhe prezritel'no:
- Ty - chelovek!
Tvoe prevoshodstvo nado mnoj lish' v tom,
CHto u tebya bol'she vozmozhnostej.
IV
Voitel' stoyal na holme i vyzyval na boj zvezdy.
Malen'kaya ptichka, proletavshaya mimo,
Prel'stilas' sultanom na ego shlyape -
i sorvala ego.
V
Veter, nezhno ovevavshij cvety,
Neskonchaemo pel, pel, pel...
Cvety udivlyalis' svoemu schast'yu.
- O veter, - sprosili oni, -
pochemu ty poesh', kogda trudish'sya,
A my, rozovye balovni sud'by, ne poem
I vsyu zhizn' neskonchaemo lenimsya,
lenimsya, lenimsya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
When a people reach the top of a hill
Then does God lean toward them,
Shortens tongues, lengthens arms.
A vision of their dead comes to the weak.
The moon shall not be loo old
Before the new battalions rise
- Blue battalions -
The moon shall not be too old
When the children of change shall fall
Before the new battalions
- The blue battalions -
Mistakes and virtues will be trampled deep
A church a thief shall fall together
A sword will come at the bidding of the eyeless,
The God-led, turning only to beckon.
Swinging a creed like a censer
At the head of the new battalions
- Blue battalions -
March the tools of nature's impulse
Men born of wrong, men born of right
Men of the new battalions
- The blue battalions -
The clang of swords is Thy wisdom
The wounded make gestures like Thy Son's
The feet of mad horses is one part,
- Aye, another is the hand of a mother
on the brow of a son.
Then swift as they charge through a shadow.
The men of the new battalions
- Blue battalions -
God lead them high. God lead them far
Lead them far, lead them high
These new battalions
- The blue battalions -
Kogda lyudi dostignut vershiny holma,
Bog nagnetsya k nim,
Svyazhet yazyki, razvyazhet ruki.
Teni pogibshih tovarishchej yavyatsya slabym.
Luna ne uspeet sostarit'sya,
Kak podnimutsya novye batal'ony
- Golubye batal'ony -
Luna ne uspeet sostarit'sya,
Kak deti peremen padut,
Srazhennye novymi batal'onami
- Golubymi batal'onami -
Poroki i dobrodeteli budut vtoptany v zemlyu,
Pravednik i zhulik pogibnut vmeste,
Mech obrushitsya po veleniyu slepcov,
Napravlyaemyj Bogom, poslushnyj kazhdomu
ego kivku.
Raskachivayushchijsya, kak kadilo, styag
Vo glave novyh batal'onov
- Golubyh batal'onov -
Bryacajte oruzhiem, tesh'te svoi dikie
instinkty,
Lyudi, porozhdennye zlom, lyudi, porozhdennye
dobrom,
Lyudi iz novyh batal'onov
- Golubyh batal'onov -
Lyazg mechej - vot Tvoya mudrost',
Ranenye korchatsya kak Tvoj raspyatyj syn;
Skachka beshenyh loshadej - odna storona medali,
Drugaya zhe - ruka materi na chele syna.
Stremitel'ny atakuyushchie v sumerkah
Lyudi iz novyh batal'onov
- Golubyh batal'onov -
Bog vedet ih vvys'. Bog vedet ih vdal'.
Vedet vdal', vedet vvys'
|ti novye batal'ony
- Golubye batal'ony -
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Rumbling, buzzing, turning, whirling Wheels,
Dizzy Wheels!
Wheels!
Skripyashchie, gremyashchie, vertyashchiesya,
krutyashchiesya Kolesa,
Beshenye Kolesa!
Kolesa!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Stihotvoreniya iz sbornika "Vojna Dobraya" - 1899 -
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the Battle-God, great, and his Kingdom -
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
He plach', devushka, vojna ved' dobraya.
Esli tvoj vozlyublennyj
neistovo vskinul k nebu ruki
I kon' ego v ispuge pomchalsya dal'she bez sedoka,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
Gromkie, treskuchie polkovye barabany;
Nichtozhnye dushi, polnye boevogo zadora,
|ti lyudi rozhdeny,
CHtoby shagat' stroem i umirat';
Neob®yasnimyj oreol slavy okruzhaet ih.
Velik Bog Vojny, i vladeniya ego -
Polya, gde lezhat tysyachi trupov.
Ne plach', malysh, vojna ved' dobraya.
Esli tvoj otec upal na zheltyj pesok v okope,
Razodral na grudi mundir i, zadohnuvshis', umer,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
YArkoe stremitel'noe polkovoe znamya,
Orel s zolotisto-krasnym grebeshkom.
|ti lyudi rozhdeny,
chtoby shagat' stroem i umirat'.
Vtolkuj im, chto ubijstvo - eto dobrodetel',
Skazhi im o sladosti krovoprolitiya,
O polyah, gde lezhat tysyachi trupov.
Mat', ch'e serdce, slovno na tonkoj nitochke,
Podvesheno k pyshnomu belomu savanu syna,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Ne plach', deva, ibo vojna dobraya.
Iz-za togo, chto tvoj milyj bezumno vzmahnul
rukami
I napugannyj kon' ponessya dal'she odin,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
Hriplye gromkie barabany vojny,
Melkie dushi, stremyashchiesya k bor'be,
|ti lyudi sozdany dlya mushtry i smerti.
Neob®yasnimaya slava vitaet nad nimi,
Velik bog vojny i ego carstvo -
Pole i v pole tysyacha mertvyh.
Ne plach', ditya, ibo vojna dobraya.
Iz-za togo, chto otec tvoj ruhnul v zheltyh
transheyah,
Rval na sebe mundir, zahlebyvalsya i umer,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
Bystroe yarkoe znamya polka,
Orel s zolotym i alym grebnem,
|ti lyudi sozdany dlya mushtry i smerti.
Obuchi ih iskusstvu smertoubijstva,
Pokazhi im velichie slavnyh poboishch
I pole i v pole tysyachu mertvyh.
Mat', skorbnoe serdce tvoe smirenno sklonilos'
Nad siyayushchim svetlym savanom syna,
Ne plach'.
Vojna dobraya.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Awkward ships, stupid ships."
"The sea bids you mourn, oh, pines,
Sing low in the moonlight.
He sends tale of the land of doom,
Of place where endless falls
A rain of women's tears,
And men in grey robes -
Men in grey robes -
Chant the unknown pain."
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"The sea bids you teach, oh, pines,
Sing low in the moonlight,
Teach the gold of patience,
Cry gospel of gentle hands,
Cry a brotherhood of hearts.
The sea bids you teach, oh, pines."
"And where is the reward, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Puny ships, silly ships."
"No word says the sea, oh, pines,
No word says the sea.
Long will your brother be silent to you,
Keep his message for the ships,
Oh, puny pines, silly pines."
- CHto govorit okean, malen'kaya rakushka?
CHto govorit okean?
Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash,
Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej,
Neuklyuzhih korablej, tyazhelyh korablej.
- Okean molit vas plakat', o sosny,
Tiho pet' pri lunnom svete.
V govore ego slyshny legendy zemli obrechennyh,
Strany, gde bespreryvno
Padaet dozhd' zhenskih slez
I lyudi v seryh odezhdah -
Lyudi v seryh odezhdah -
Krichat ot nevedomoj boli.
- CHto govorit okean, malen'kaya rakushka?
CHto govorit okean?
Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash,
Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej,
Nichtozhnyh korablej, glupyh korablej.
- Okean molit vas propovedovat', o sosny,
Tiho pet' pri lunnom svete,
Vozveshchat' zolotuyu zapoved' terpeniya,
Vozdyhat' o teple dobryh ruk,
Oplakivat' bratstvo serdec.
Oksan molit vas propovedovat', o sosny.
- A gde zhe nagrada, malen'kaya rakushka?
CHto govorit okean?
Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash,
Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej,
Nichtozhnyh korablej, glupyh korablej.
- Ni slova ne govorit okean, o sosny,
Ni slova ne govorit okean.
Dolgo ne otvetit vam brat vash,
Hranit on svoi vesti dlya korablej,
O nichtozhnye sosny, glupye sosny.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
To the maiden
The sea was blue meadow
Alive with little froth-people
Singing.
To the sailor, wrecked,
The sea was dead grey walls
Superlative in vacancy
Upon which nevertheless at fateful time
Was written
The grim hatred of nature.
Dlya devy
More bylo golubym lugom,
Na kotorom rezvilis' i peli
Malen'kie rusalochki.
Dlya moryaka posle korablekrusheniya
More bylo mertvenno-seroj stenoyu,
Neobozrimoj, sovershenno pustynnoj,
Na kotoroj, odnako, v eti rokovye minuty
YAsno chitalis' znaki,
Vydavavshie besposhchadnuyu nenavist' prirody.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Dlya devushki
More bylo golubaya dolina,
Gde zhili kroshechnye gnomy peny
I peli.
Dlya moryaka s pogibshego sudna
More bylo mertvye serye steny,
Gigantskie pustye,
Na kotoryh, odnako, v rokovuyu minutu
Byla napisana
Mrachnaya nenavist' Natury.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
A little ink more or less!
It surely can't matter?
Even the sky and the opulent sea,
The plains and the hills, aloof,
Hear the uproar of all these books.
But it is only a little ink more or less.
What?
You define me God with these trinkets?
Can my misery meal on an ordered walking
Of surpliced numbskulls?
And a fanfare of lights?
Or even upon the measured pulpitings
Of the familiar false and true?
Is this God?
Where, then, is hell?
Show me some bastard mushroom
Sprung from a pollution of blood.
It is better.
Where is God?
CHut' bol'she ili chut' men'she chernil -
Tak li eto vazhno?
Dazhe nebo i beskrajnie morya,
Ravniny i dal'nie gory
Slyshat shum, podnyatyj mnogochislennymi knigami.
No eto vsego lish' chernila -
chut' bol'she ili chut' men'she.
CHto?
Ty hochesh' opisat' Boga pri pomoshchi etoj erundy?
Utolit li moyu duhovnuyu zhazhdu
CHinnoe shestvie oblachennyh v stihari bolvanov?
Ili fanfary sveta?
Ili dazhe osmotritel'naya propoved'
Navyazshih na zubah pravdy i lzhi?
Razve vo vsem etom - Bog?
Gde zhe togda d'yavol?
Izobrazi luchshe yadovitye griby,
Vspoennye zarazhennoj krov'yu.
|to vyjdet udachnee.
Gde zhe Bog?
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"Have you ever made a just man?"
"Oh, I have made three," answered God,
"But two of them are dead
And the third -
Listen! Listen!
And you will hear the third of his defeat."
- Sluchalos' li Tebe sotvorit' pravednika?
- O, ya sozdal troih, - otvetil Bog, -
No dvoe iz nih umerli,
A tretij...
Prislushajtes' - i vy uslyshite,
Kak tretij oplakivaet svoyu gor'kuyu uchast'.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"Sotvoril li ty kogda-nibud' pravednika?"
"YA sotvoril troih, - otvetil Gospod', -
No dvoe uspeli s teh por umeret',
A tretij -
Prislushajsya! Vot!
Slyshish'? |to on padaet zamertvo!"
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night,
The sweep of each sad lost wave
The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striving
The little cry of a man to a man
A shadow falling across the greyer night
And the sinking of the small star.
Then the waste, the far waste of waters
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
Remember, thou, o ship of love
Thou leaves! a far waste of waters
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
YA hochu zapechatlet' serebristyj sled korablya v nochi,
Vsplesk kazhdoj pechal'noj ugasayushchej volny,
Zamirayushchij shum vody pod stal'nym kilem,
Otryvistye vykriki lyudej,
Ten', padayushchuyu v nochnoj mrak,
I zvezdu, tonushchuyu v puchine.
Potom - lish' prostory, beskrajnie prostory vod
I ti? li govor chernyh voln,
Na dolgie vremena, v odinochestve.
Pomni zhe, o ty, korabl' lyubvi,
Ty pokidaesh' beskrajnie prostory vod
I tihij govor chernyh voln
Na dolgie vremena, v odinochestve.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
YA ob®yasnyayu, zachem serebristyj korabl'
plyvet v nochi,
I udar kazhdoj grustnoj otvergnutoj im volny,
Gasnushchij gul ustremlennogo vdal'
stal'nogo korpusa,
Dalekuyu pereklichku matrosov,
Novuyu ten' na temno-seroj nochi,
I ugasan'e upavshej zvezdy.
Posle - pustynya, bol'shaya pustynya vod
I myagkij plesk chernyh voln
Nadolgo i v odinochestve.
Zapomni zhe, o korabl' lyubvi,
Ty pokidaesh' etu bol'shuyu pustynyu vod
I myagkij plesk chernyh voln
Nadolgo i v odinochestve.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
"I have heard the sunset song of the birches
A white melody in the silence
I have seen a quarrel of the pines.
At nightfall
The little grasses have rushed by me
With the wind men.
These things have I lived," quoth the maniac,
"Possessing only eyes and ears.
But, you-
You don green spectacles before you look at roses."
- YA slyshal pesn' berez na zakate,
Beluyu melodiyu, zvuchavshuyu v tishine;
YA videl, kak ssorilis' mezhdu soboyu sosny;
V sumerkah
Proneslis' mimo menya travinki,
Vlekomye tem, ch'e imya - veter.
Vse eto ya oshchushchal,
Obladaya lish' zreniem i sluhom, -
skazal bezumec, -
A ty...
Ty nadevaesh' zelenye ochki pered tem
kak vzglyanut' na rozy,
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking
Ever waving an eager sword.
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the khight
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
A horse
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
Vo ves' opor skakal rycar',
Prishporivaya ustalogo, vzmylennogo konya,
Neterpelivo razmahivaya mechom.
- Spasti gospozhu moego serdca!
Vo ves' opor skakal rycar',
I, vyprygnuv iz sedla, vstupil v boj.
Zakovannye v stal' lyudi metalis' i otbivalis',
Rozhdaya bezumnuyu plyasku serebristyh otbleskov.
No zoloto slavnogo rycarskogo styaga
Vse zhe zablestelo nad krepostnymi stenami.
Kon',
Izmuchennyj, zadyhayushchijsya, istekayushchij krov'yu,
Zabyt pod krepostnoj stenoj.
Kon'
Gibnet pod kreposnoj stenoj.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the wind-
When he looked about him he was in far strange
country.
Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the stars-
Yellow light tore sight from his eyes.
"My good fool," said a learned bystander,
"Your operations are mad."
"You are too candid," cried the candid man
And when his stick left the head of the learned
bystander
It was two sticks.
Vse dal'she shel pryamodushnyj chelovek,
Svobodno beseduya s vetrom -
Ozirayas', on videl sebya v dalekoj neznakomoj
strane.
Vse dal'she shel pryamodushnyj chelovek,
Svobodno beseduya so zvezdami -
ZHeltyj svet ih zapechatlelsya v ego vzglyade.
- Moj dorogoj glupec, - skazal obrazovannyj
prohozhij, -
Tvoi postupki bezumny.
- Tvoya pryamota oskorbitel'na! -
vskrichal pryamodushnyj chelovek,
I, kogda ego palka otskochila ot golovy
obrazovannogo prohozhego,
Ona prevratilas' v dve palki.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
You tell me this is God?
I tell you this is a printed list,
A burning candle and an ass.
Ty govorish' mne, chto vidish' Boga?
YA govoryu tebe, chto vizhu
Goryashchuyu svechu, otkrytuyu knigu
I vperivshegosya v nee osla.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
On the desert
A silence from the moon's deepest valley.
Fire-rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.
Before them, a woman
Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles
And distant-thunder of drums
While slow things, sinuous, dull with terrible
color
Sleepily fondle her body
Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the
sand.
The snakes whisper softly;
The whispering, whispering snakes
Dreaming and swaying and staring
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The wind streams from the lone reaches
Of Arabia, solemn with night,
And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood
Over the robes of the hooded men
Squat and dumb.
Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow
Circle the throat and the arms of her
And over the sands serpents move warily
Slow, menacing and submissive,
Swinging to the whistles and drums,
The whispering, whispering snake,
Dreaming and swaying and staring
But always whispering, softly whispering.
The dignity of the accursed;
The glory of slavery, despair, death
Is in the dance of the whispering snakes.
V pustyne
Tishina glubokih lunnyh dolin.
Ognennye luchi koso padayut na shirokie odezhdy
kapyushony
Lyudej, prignuvshihsya, molchalivyh.
Vperedi zhenshchina,
Bredushchaya tuda, otkuda donositsya pronzitel'nyj
vetra
I dalekij rokot barabanov;
Medlitel'nye izvivayushchiesya tvari zloveshchego
tusklogo cveta
Sonno laskayut ee telo
Ili, poslushnye ee vole, besshumno skol'zyat po
pesku.
Zmei shepchutsya chut' slyshno;
SHepchushchiesya, shepchushchiesya zmei,
Dremlyushchie, izvivayushchiesya, vstayushchie dybom,
No vse ravno shepchushchiesya, chut' slyshno
shepchushchiesya.
Veter duet iz bezlyudnyh prostorov Aravii,
Pogruzhennyh v sumerki;
Zarnicy brosayut krovavye otbleski
Na shirokie odezhdy i kapyushony lyudej,
Prignuvshihsya, molchalivyh.
ZHivye lenty - bronzovye, izumrudnye, zheltye -
V'yutsya vokrug ee shei i ruk;
Zmejki ostorozhno skol'zyat po pesku,
medlitel'nye,
Ugrozhayushchie ili poslushnye,
Raskachivayushchiesya v takt barabanam i svistu
SHepchushchiesya, shepchushchiesya zmei,
Dremlyushchie, izvivayushchiesya, vstayushchie dybom,
No vse ravno shepchushchiesya, chut' slyshno
shepchushchiesya.
Velichie proklyatyh,
Blazhenstvo rabstva, otchayan'ya, smerti -
Vse eto v tance shepchushchiesya zmej.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices
Which, bawled by boys from mile to mile,
Spreads its curious opinion
To a million merciful and sneering men.
While families cuddle the joys of the fireside
When spurred by tale of dire lone agony.
A newspaper is a court
Where every one is kindly and unfairly tried
By a squalor of honest men.
A newspaper is a market
Where wisdom sells its freedom
And melons are crowned by the crowd.
A newspaper is a game
Where his error scores the player victory
While another's skill wins death.
A newspaper is a symbol;
It is fetless life's chronicle,
A collection of loud tales
Concentrating eternal stupidities,
That in remote ages lived unhaltered,
Roaming through a fenceless world.
Gazeta - eto podborka polupravd,
Kotorye na kazhdom uglu vykrikivayut mal'chishki,
Donosya nesuraznye suzhdeniya
Do millionov snishoditel'nyh i nasmeshlivyh lyudej,
CH'i sem'i v eto vremya, sidya u kamina,
Smakuyut dusherazdirayushchie rosskazni
o ch'ej-nibud' gibeli
Gazeta - eto sud,
Kotoryj ispravno i nepravedno vershit nad kazhdym
Tupost' chestnyh lyudej.
Gazeta - eto torzhishche,
Gde mudrost' prodaet svoyu svobodu,
A tykvennye golovy uvenchivaet chern'.
Gazeta - eto igra,
V kotoroj promah prinosit igroku pobedu,
A masterstvo vedet ego k gibeli.
Gazeta - eto simvol,
Bespoleznaya hronika zhizni,
Nabor gromkih spleten,
Gusto zameshannyj na neistrebimyh glupostyah,
CHto perezhili dolgie veka,
Bluzhdaya po bezzashchitnomu miru.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Gazeta - sobranie polupravd,
Gromkie kriki mal'chishek milya za milej
Donosyat ee nelepoe mnenie
Do milliona nasmeshnikov i sostradatelej.
Sem'i sbivayutsya v kuchu u ochaga
I s vostorgom chitayut o smerti zhestokoj lyubvi.
Gazeta - sudilishche,
Gde kazhdogo sudit staratel'no, nespravedlivo
Ubozhestvo chestnyh lyudej.
Gazeta - bazar,
Gde mudrost' torguet svoej svobodoj,
A tolpy venchayut arbuznye golovy.
Gazeta - igra, v kotoroj
Ee proschety prinosyat ej vyigrysh,
A iskusstvo protivnika idet emu na pogibel'.
Gazeta - simvol,
Letopis' bespoleznoj zhizni,
Sobranie gulkih spleten
Sredotochie vechnoj tuposti,
Idushchej po miru, ne znaya pregrad,
Iz otdalennyh stoletij.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
The wayfarer
Perceiving the pathway to truth
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."
Putnik,
Otyskavshij tropinku k Pravde,
Vdrug zastyl v izumlenii:
Ona gusto zarosla travoj.
- Gm, - skazal on, -
Pohozhe, zdes' davno uzhe
Nikto ne hodil.
Potom on zametil, chto kazhdaya travinka
Ostryj nozh.
- M-da, - probormotal on togda, -
Poishchu-ka ya druguyu dorogu.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Putnik
Nabrel na dorogu k istine
I izumilsya:
Tak gusto ona zarosla travoj.
- Ba! - skazal on, -
YA vizhu, davnym-davno tut
Nikto ne hodil. -
I vdrug on zametil, chto kazhdaya
Travinka - nozh.
- M-da, - zaklyuchil on, -
Konechno, dolzhny byt' drugie dorogi.
Per. Andreya Sergeeva
A slant of sun on dull brown walls
A forgotten sky of bashful blue.
Toward God a mighty hymn
A song of collisions and cries
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells,
Welcomes, farewells, love-calls, final moans,
Voices of joy, idiocy, warning, despair,
The unknown appeals of brutes,
The chanting of flowers
The screams of cut trees,
The senseless babble of hens and wise men-
A clutteres incoherency that says at the stars:
"Oh, God, save us."
Solnechnye bliki na mrachnyh buryh stenah,
Zabytaya chistota golubogo neba.
Obrashchennyj k Tvorcu gromoglasnyj gimn,
Pesn' yarosti i placha,
Grohot koles, stuk kopyt, zvon kolokolov,
Privetstviya, proshchaniya, vzdohi lyubvi,
predsmertnye stony,
Kriki radosti, bezumiya, straha, otchayan'ya,
Temnyj zverinyj zov,
Napevy raskryvayushchihsya butonov
Tresk, padayushchih derev'ev,
Bessmyslennoe kudahtan'e kur i filosofov -
Ves' etot raznogolosyj hor, voznosyashchijsya k zvezdam:
- Bozhe, spasi nas!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Solnechnyj luch, skol'zyashchij vdol' mrachnyh sten.
Stydlivaya golubizna zabytyh nebes.
Nesushchijsya k Gospodu moshchnyj gimn,
Pesn' krushenij i krikov,
Grohot koles, cokot kopyt, kolokol'nyj zvon,
Gul privetstvij, proshchanij, priznanij,
nadgrobnyh plachej,
Vozglasy radosti, gluposti, predosterezhen'ya,
otchayan'ya,
Nevnyatnye zvuki zverinyh fraz,
Psalmodii cvetushchih roz,
Vizg perepilivaemyh derev'ev,
Bessmyslennyj gomon kuric i mudrecov,
Nestrojnyj gvalt, vopiyushchij azh k zvezdam glas:
"Bozhe, spasi nas!"
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Once, a man, clambering to the house-tops,
Appealed to the heavens.
With strong voice he called to the deaf spheres;
A warrior's shout he raised to the suns.
Lo, at last, there was a dot on the clouds,
And-at last and at last-
-God-the sky was filled with armies.
Odnazhdy chelovek, vzobravshis' na kryshu doma,
Vozzval k nebesam.
Gromovoj glas ego pronizal nebesnye sfery,
Boevoj klich voznessya k samomu Solncu.
I vot na oblakah poyavilis' temnye tochki,
A so vremenem - Bozhe! -
Vse nebo perepolnilos' vojskami.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There was a man with tongue of wood
Who essayed to sing,
And in truth it was lamentable
But there was one who heard
The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood
And knew what the man
Wished to sing,
And with that the singer was content.
ZHil na svete chelovek s derevyannym gorlom;
On proboval pet',
Hotya, po pravde govorya,
Rezul'taty byli plachevnymi.
Odnako nashelsya tot,
Kto slushal shchelkan'e derevyannogo gorla
I ponimal, chto pevec pytaetsya vyrazit'.
Pevec byl etim nemalo dovolen.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
ZHil-byl chelovek - derevyannyj yazyk
I proboval pet'
I poistine zhalkie byli potugi
No byl odin kotoryj slushal
Kak kolotitsya derevyannyj yazyk
I ponimal o chem tot chelovek
Pytaetsya pet'
I pevec byl rad ibo on byl ponyat.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
The successful man has thrust himself
Through the water of the years,
Reeking wet with mistakes,
Bloody mistakes;
Slimed with victories over the lesser
A figure thankful on the shore of money.
Then, with the bones of fools
He buys silken banners
Limned with his triumphant face,
With the skins of wise men
He buys the trivial bows of all.
Flesh painted with marrow
Contributes a coverlet
A coverlet for his contented slumber
In guiltless ignorance, in ignorant guilt
He delivers his secrets to the riven multitude.
"Thus I defended: Thus I wrought."
Complacent, smiling
He stands heavily on the dead.
Erect on a pillar of skulls
He declaims his trampling of babes;
Smirking, fat, dripping
He makes his speech in guiltless ignorance,
Innocence.
Preuspevayushchij chelovek, izlovchivshis', proshel
po vodam let.
Pokrytyj mokrymi pyatnami oshibok,
Krovavyh oshibok,
Ustavshij ot pobed nad slabymi,
Stoit on teper' na denezhnom beregu,
Slovno statuya Blagodarnosti.
Vot, rasplachivayas' kostyami glupcov,
Pokupaet on shelkovye znamena,
Na kotoryh vyshit ego torzhestvuyushchij lik;
Rasplachivayas' skal'pami mudryh,
Pokupaet kazhdodnevnye poklony okruzhayushchih.
Iz zhivoj ploti, pronizannoj obnazhennymi nervami,
Sotkano pokryvalo,
Pokryvalo, pod kotorym vidit on bezmyatezhnye sny.
Izobrazhaya neveden'e i nevinnost', yavlyaya
nevezhestvo i vinu,
Poveryaet on svoi sekrety razobshchennoj tolpe:
- Vot tak ya i ne dal sebya v obidu; tak ya dobilsya
svoego
Samodovol'nyj, ulybayushchijsya,
Tyazhelo stoit on na mertvyh kostyah,
Na postamente iz cherepov,
Rasskazyvaya vsem, kak popiral mladencev.
Otkormlennyj, razvyaznyj, uhmylyayushchijsya,
Proiznosit on svoj spich v blazhennom neveden'i -
Sama nevinnost'.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
In the night
Grey, heavy clouds muffled the valleys,
And the peaks looked toward God, alone.
"Oh, Master that movest the wind with a finger,
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Grant that we may run swiftly across the world
To huddle in worship at Thy feet."
In the morning
A noise of men at work came the clear blue miles
And the little black cities were apparent.
"Oh, Master that knowest the meaning of rain-
Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.
Give voice to us, we pray, 0 Lord,
That we may sing Thy goodness to the sun."
In the evening
The far valleys were sprinkled with tiny lights.
"Oh, Master,
Thou who knowest the value of kings and birds,
Thou hast made us humble, idle, futile peaks.
Thou only needest eternal patience;
We bow to Thy wisdom, 0 Lord-
Humble, idle, futile peaks."
In the night
Grey, heavy clouds muffled the valleys
And the peaks looked toward God, alone.
Noch'yu
Serye, svincovye oblaka okutali doliny
I gory tshchetno pytalis' uvidet' Boga, odinokie.
- O Sozdatel', vzdymayushchij veter dvizheniem pal'ca,
My smirennye, prazdnye, bespoleznye gory.
Pozvol' nam bystro obezhat' ves' shar zemnoj,
CHtoby povergnut' nashe preklonenie k stopam tvoim.
Utrom
Zvuki lyudskogo truda raznosilis' po golubym milyam nebes
I malen'kie chernye goroda byli yasno razlichimy.
- O Sozdatel', znayushchij prednaznachen'e dozhdevyh kapel',
My smirennye, prazdnye, bespoleznye gory.
Otkliknis', umolyaem tebya, Gospodi,
I my donesem pesn' o velikodushii tvoem do Solnca.
Vecherom
Po dal'nim dolinam byli razbryzgany kroshechnye ogon'ki.
- O Sozdatel',
Ty, znayushchij cenu monarham i pticam,
Sotvoril nas smirennymi, prazdnymi, bespoleznymi gorami,
Ty hochesh' lish' polnogo pokoya;
My sklonyaemsya pred tvoej mudrost'yu, Gospodi,
My, smirennye, prazdnye, bespoleznye gory.
Noch'yu
Serye, svincovye oblaka okutali doliny,
I gory tshchetno pytalis' uvidet' Boga, odinokie.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
Blood-blood and torn grass-
Had marked the rise of his agony-
This lone hunter.
The grey-green woods impassive
Had watched the threshing of his limbs.
A canoe with flashing paddle
A girl with soft searching eyes,
A call: "John!"
Come, arise, hunter!
Can you not hear?
The chatter of a death-demon from a tree-top.
Demon smerti bormochet na vershine dereva.
Krov', krov' i vyrvannaya s kornem trava -
Tak nachalas' agoniya,
Agoniya odinokogo ohotnika.
Sero-zelenyj les Bezuchastno vziral
Na ego predsmertnye sudorogi.
Lodka s b'yushchimi po vode veslami,
Devushka s nezhnym, polnymi trevogi glazami,
Ee zov: - Dzhon!
Vosstan', otkliknis', ohotnik!
Neuzheli ty ne slyshish'?
Demon smerti bormochet na vershine dereva.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
The impact of a dollar upon the heart
Smiles warm red light
Sweeping from the hearth rosily upon the white table,
With the hanging cool velvet shadows
Moving softly upon the door.
The impact of a million dollars
Is a crash of flunkeys
And yawning emblems of Persia
Cheeked against oak, France and a sabre,
The outcry of old beauty
Whored by pimping merchants
To submission before wine and chatter.
Silly rich peasants stamp the carpets of men,
Dead men who dreamed fragrance and light
Into their woof, their lives;
The rug of an honest bear
Under the foot of a cryptic slave
Who speaks always of baubles,
Forgetting place, multitude, work and state,
Champing and mouthing of hats
Making ratful squeak of hats,
Hats.
Dejstvie dollara na serdce -
|to veselyj teplyj krasnyj ogonek,
Otblesk pylayushchego kamina na beloj skaterti,
Spokojnye barhatnye teni,
Netoroplivo dvizhushchiesya po stvorkam dveri.
Dejstvie milliona dollarov -
|to krah neudachnikov,
Ziyashchie emblemy Persii,
Naglo vystavlennye protiv simvolov doblesti
i chesti,
Vzvizgivan'e staroj krasotki,
Kotoroj stroyat kury besstyzhie kupcy
Za vinom i zastol'noj besedoj.
Glupye razbogatevshie fermery shtampuyut kovry
iz lyudej,
Mertvyh lyudej, mechtavshih vplesti svet
i blagouhan'e
V tkan' svoej zhizni;
Poloviki iz teh, kto vel chestnuyu igru,
Lezhat pod nogami temnyh lichnostej s rab'imi
dushami,
Kotorye vechno boltayut o pustyakah,
Zabyvaya ob okruzhenii, o lyudyah, o dele, o rodine,
Bez umolku treshchat o shlyapkah,
Po-krysinomu pishchat o shlyapkah,
O shlyapkah.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
CHelovek skazal Vselennoj:
- Smotri! YA sushchestvuyu!
- Da, - otvetila Vselennaya, -
No sej fakt eshche ne oznachaet,
CHto ya dolzhna o tebe zabotit'sya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
CHelovek obratilsya k kosmosu:
"Sudar', ya sushchestvuyu!"
"Odnako zhe, - vozrazil emu kosmos, -
|tot fakt ne rodil vo mne
CHuvstvo dolga".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
Arrived at the mountain-top
He cried: "Woe to my knowledge!
I intended to see good white lands
And bad black lands-
But the scene is grey."
Vzobravshis' na vershinu gory, prorok,
Polnyj blagodushnyj chelovek,
Vskrichal: - Bud' proklyat ves' moj zhiznennyj opyt!
YA dumal, horoshie strany - svetlye,
A plohie - temnye.
No oni zhe vse serye!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Kogda prorok, samodovol'nyj i zhirnyj,
Vskarabkalsya na krutuyu goru,
On vskrichal: "O, moj zhalkij razum!
YA dumal uvidet' blagie belye strany
I durnye chernye strany,
YA vizhu - seruyu panoramu".
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
There was a land where lived no violets.
A traveller at once demanded: "Why?"
The people told him:
"Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
'Until some woman freely gives her lover
To another woman
We will fight in bloody scuffle.'"
Sadly the people added:
"There are no violets here."
Byla na svete strana, gde ne rosli fialki.
Puteshestvennik kak-to sprosil, v chem tut delo.
Lyudi dali emu takoj otvet:
- Odnazhdy fialki, rosshie v etih mestah, skazali:
"Do teh por, poka hot' odna zhenshchina po dobroj vole
Ne otdast drugoj svoego vozlyublennogo,
My budem srazhat'sya mezhdu soboj v krovoprolitnyh
boyah".
Lyudi s grust'yu dobavili:
- Teper' zdes' net fialok.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Aye, workman, make me a dream
A dream for my love.
Cunningly weave sunlight,
Breezes and flowers.
Let it be of the cloth of meadows.
And-good workman-
And let there be a man walking thereon.
O iskusnyj master! Proshu tebya, sotvori son,
Son dlya moej lyubimoj.
Berezhno spleti v nem solnechnyj svet,
Nezhnyj veterok, cvety.
Pust' prisnitsya ej shelkovistaya tkan' luga
I - moj dobryj master -
Pust' uvidit ona togo, kto gulyaet po nemu.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
{Pod e 99 v izdanii "The Poems of Stephen Crane" (A critical edition by Joseph
Katz), New York, 1966, povtorno pomeshcheno stihotvorenie e 33. Delo v tom, chto
ono bylo vklyucheno Krejnom v oba prizhiznennyh sbornika ego stihov.}
Each small gleam was a voice
-A lantern voice-
In little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.
A chorus of colors came over the water;
The wondrous leaf shadow no longer wavered,
No pines crooned on the hills
The blue night was elsewhere a silence
When the chorus of colors came over the water,
Little songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.
Small glowing pebbles
Thrown on the dark plane of evening
Sing good ballads of God
And eternity, with soul's rest.
Little priests, little holy fathers
None can doubt the truth of your hymning
When the marvellous chorus comes over the water
Songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.
Mimoletnye otbleski byli golosami
- Svetozarnymi golosami -
Slivshimisya v karminnye, lilovye, zelenye,
zolotye melodii.
Hor krasok zavladel vodoyu;
Ne kolyhalis' bol'she prichudlivye teni derev'ev,
Ne peli sosny na holmah,
Nichto ne narushalo tishinu sinego vechera,
I hor krasok rascvetil vodu
Karminnymi, lilovymi, zelenymi,
zolotymi melodiyami.
Malen'kie sverkayushchie kameshki,
Broshennye na temnoe pokryvalo sumerek,
Poyut charuyushchie ballady o Boge,
O vechnosti i dushevnom pokoe.
Malen'kie serafimy, malen'kie apostoly,
Nel'zya ne verit' vashim pesnopeniyam,
Kogda chudesnyj hor rascvechivaet vodu
Karminnymi, lilovymi, zelenymi,
zolotymi melodiyami.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
The trees in the garden rained flowers.
Children ran there joyously.
They gathered the flowers
Each to himself.
Now there were some
Who gathered great heaps-
-Having opportunity and skill-
Until, behold, only chance blossoms
Remained for the feeble.
Then a little spindling tutor
Ran importantly to the father, crying:
"Pray, come hither!
See this unjust thing in your garden!"
But when the father had surveyed,
He admonished the tutor:
"Not so, small sage!
This thing is just.
For,look you,
Are not they who possess the flowers
Stronger, bolder, shrewder
Than they who have none?
Why should the strong-
-The beautiful strong-
Why should they not have the flowers?"
Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground.
"My Lord," he said,
"The stars are misplaced
By this towering wisdom."
Sad byl useyan cvetami, slovno kaplyami dozhdya;
Tam veselo igrali deti,
Kazhdyj iz nih
Sobiral cvety.
Vyshlo tak, chto nekotorye -
- Samye lovkie -
Pol'zuyas' sluchaem, nabrali bol'shie ohapki,
A dlya slabyh ostalos' lish' neskol'ko cvetochkov.
Togda malen'kij tshchedushnyj nastavnik detej
S ozabochennym vidom pribezhal k otcu, kricha:
- Umolyayu, idemte so mnoj!
Vzglyanite, chto za bezobraziya tvoryatsya v vashem sadu!
No kogda otec ponyal, chto proishodit,
On upreknul nastavnika:
- Ty ne prav, malen'kij mudrec!
Vse eto v poryadke veshchej.
Razve ty ne vidish':
Deti, zavladevshie cvetami,
Sil'nee, smelee, hitree teh,
Kto ostalsya s pustymi rukami.
Pochemu by sil'nym -
- Voistinu sil'nym -
Pochemu im ne prisvoit' vse cvety?
Porazmysliv, nastavnik ponik glavoyu.
- Gospodi, - skazal on, -
Zvezdy padayut s neba
Ot takoj snogsshibatel'noj mudrosti.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
"INTRIGUE"
Thou art my love
And thou art the peace of sundown
When the blue shadows soothe
And the grasses and the leaves sleep
To the song of the little brooks
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a storm
That breaks black in the sky
And, sweeping headlong,
Drenches and cowers each tree
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl
Woe is me!
Thou art my love
And thou art a tinsel thing
And I in my play
Broke thee easily
And from the little fragments
Arose my long sorrow
Woe is me
Thou art my love
And thou art a weary violet
Drooping from sun-caresses.
Answering mine carelessly
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the ashes of other men's love
And I bury my face in these ashes
And I love them
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art the beard
On another man's face
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a temple
And in this temple is an altar
And on this altar is my heart
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a wretch.
Let these sacred love-lies choke thee
For I am come to where I know your lies as truth
And your truth as lies
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a priestess
And in thy hand is a bloody dagger
And my doom comes to me surely
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art a skull with ruby eyes
And I love thee
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And I doubt thee
And if peace came with thy murder
Then would I murder.
Woe is me.
Thou art my love
And thou art death
Aye, thou art death
Black and yet black
But I love thee
I love thee
Woe, welcome woe, to me.
LYUBOVX
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty tishina v chas zakata,
Kogda zamirayut golubye teni,
Zasypayut list'ya i travy,
Ubayukannye peniem ruch'ya.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty burya,
CHto prodiraet chernye breshi v nebe
I, bezuderzhno rydaya,
Zahlestyvaet vodoj i treplet kazhdoe derevo,
Poka, vkonec zadohnuvshis', ne umolknet;
A posle - ni zvuka,
Lish' pechal'nyj krik odinokoj sovy.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty sverkayushchaya bezdelushka,
Kotoruyu ya sluchajno razbil,
Igraya,
I iz melkih oskolkov
Vzrosla moya bezmernaya pechal'.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty tomnaya fialka,
Ponikshaya pod laskami solnca,
Povinuyushchayasya mne bezdumno.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty prah lyubvi tvoih prezhnih vozlyublennyh,
I ya pryachu lico v etom prahe,
YA lyublyu ego.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty boroda
Na lice drugogo muzhchiny.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty hram,
I vo hrame tom est' altar',
I na altare tom lezhit moe serdce.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty ved'ma;
Pust' proklyataya lozh', chto spletena s tvoej lyubov'yu,
Zadushit tebya -
Ved' ya doshel do togo, chto vo lzhi tvoej vizhu pravdu,
A v pravde tvoej - lozh'.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty zhrica,
V rukah tvoih okrovavlennyj kinzhal,
I rok neotvratimo nastigaet menya.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty cherep s rubinami v glaznicah,
I ya lyublyu tebya.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
I ya boyus' tebya;
Esli b smert' tvoya prinesla mne pokoj,
YA ubil by tebya.
Gore mne.
Ty lyubov' moya,
Ty smert',
Da, ty smert',
CHernee samogo mraka,
No ya lyublyu tebya,
YA lyublyu tebya.
Gore, prihodi, prihodi ko mne.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Love forgive me if I wish you grief
For in your grief
You huddle to my breast
And for it
Would I pay the price of your grief
You walk among men
And all men do not surrender
And this I understand
That love reaches his hand
In mercy to me.
He had your picture in his room
A scurvy traitor picture
And he smiled
-Merely a fat complacence
Of men who know fine women-
And thus I divided with him
A part of my love
Fool, not to know that thy little shoe
Can make men weep!
-Some men weep.
I weep and I gnash
And I love the little shoe
The little, little shoe.
God give me medals
God give me loud honors
That I may strut before you, sweetheart
And be worthy of-
-The love I bear you.
Now let me crunch you
With full weight of affrighted love
I doubted you
-I doubted you-
And in this short doubting
My love grew like a genie
For my further undoing.
Beware of my Mends
Be not in speech too sivil
For in all courtesy
My weak heart sees spectres,
Mists of desires
Arising from the lips of my chosen
Be not civil.
The flower I gave thee once
Was incident to a stride
A detail of a gesture
But search those pale petals
And see engraven thereon
A record of my intention.
Lyubimaya, prosti, chto mne hochetsya videt' tebya
pechal'noj -
Ved', stradaya,
Ty prizhimaesh'sya k moej grudi,
A za eto
Gotov ya zaplatit' cenu tvoej pechali.
Ty okruzhena lyud'mi,
I oni ne izbegayut obshcheniya s toboj,
I togda ya ponimayu,
CHto lyubimaya kasaetsya chuzhoj ruki,
Sostradaya mne.
On povesil u sebya v komnate tvoj portret,
Portret, stavshij podlym predatelem,
I on smeyalsya
- To bylo lish' glupoe samodovol'stvo
CHeloveka, privykshego byvat' sredi krasivyh
zhenshchin -
I vot tak ya podelil s nim
CHasticu moej lyubvi.
Glupec, kak zhe ya ne znal, chto tvoya malen'kaya
tufel'ka
Mozhet byt' prichinoj muzhskih slez!
- CH'ih-to slez.
YA plachu tozhe, ya skrezheshchu zubami,
I ya lyublyu etu malen'kuyu tufel'ku,
Malen'kuyu, malen'kuyu tufel'ku.
Bog daroval mne medali,
Bog nagradil menya gromkimi pochestyami,
I ya mogu pohvalit'sya pered toboj,
vozlyublennaya,
I byt' dostojnym
Lyubvi, chto ya daryu tebe.
Pozvol' zhe mne obrushit' na tebya
Vsyu tyazhest' muchitel'noj strasti.
YA somnevalsya v tebe
- YA somnevalsya v tebe -
I ot etogo kratkogo somneniya
Moya lyubov' vyrosla, slovno dzhinn,
Kotoryj vskore pogubit menya.
Osteregajsya druzej moih,
Ne bud' s nimi chereschur obhoditel'noj,
Ved' takaya uchtivost'
Ranit moe bezzashchitnoe serdce,
I mne vidyatsya prizraki, tuman vozhdeleniya,
Podnimayushchijsya ot gub tvoih, lyubimaya.
Ne bud' chereschur obhoditel'noj.
Cvetok, chto ya odnazhdy podaril tebe,
Byl znakom rozhdayushchegosya chuvstva,
Malen'koj chasticej moego prekloneniya,
No vzglyani na eti poblekshie lepestki
I prochti zapechatlennuyu na nih
Povest' o moih nadezhdah.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God-that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.
O moj Gospod', odno lish' dvizhenie tvoego pal'ca,
Kogda ty podnyal ruku
I, zabavlyayas', raschesyval volosy
Obyknovennym zolochenym grebnem,
O moj Gospod', kakie stradaniya ono prineslo mne,
Odno lish' dvizhenie tvoego pal'ca!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Once I saw thee idly rocking
-Idly rocking-
And chattering girlishly to other girls,
Bell-voiced, happy,
Careless with the stout heart of unscarred
womanhood
And life to thee was all light melody.
I thought of the great storms of love as I know it
Tom, miserable and ashamed of my open sorrow,
I thought of the thunders that lived in my head
And I wish to be an ogre
And hale and haul my beloved to a castle
And there use the happy cruel one cruelly
And make her mourn with my mourning
Odnazhdy ya videl, kak ty prazdno pokachivalas'
na kachelyah
- Prazdno pokachivalas' -
I po-devich'i boltala s podrugami,
Zvonkogolosaya, schastlivaya,
Voplotivshaya bezzabotnost' i besstrastie
neomrachennoj zhenstvennosti,
ZHizn' dlya tebya byla kak nezhnaya melodiya.
YA dumal o perezhityh mnoyu neistovyh buryah
lyubvi;
Isterzannyj, neschastnyj, stydyashchijsya svoej
neodolimoj pechali,
YA dumal o gromovyh raskatah, zvuchavshih v moej
golove,
I mne zahotelos' stat' svirepym velikanom,
Shvatit' lyubimuyu i zatashchit' v svoj zamok,
Proyavit' k nej vsyu zhestokost', na kakuyu ya
sposoben,
I zastavit' ee stradat' tak, kak stradayu ya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Tell me why, behind thee,
I see always the shadow of another lover?
Is it real
Or is this the thrice-damned memory of a better
happiness?
Plague on him if he be dead
Plague on him if he be alive
A swinish numbskull
To intrude his shade
Always between me and my peace
Skazhi, pochemu za tvoej spinoj
YA vsegda vizhu ten' tvoego prezhnego lyubovnika?
On chto, yavlyaetsya sobstvennoj personoj,
Ili eto trizhdy proklyatye vospominaniya
O vashem bylom blazhenstve?
CHuma na nego, esli on umer;
CHuma na nego, esli on zhiv,
|tot ostolop,
Vse vremya vpihivayushchij svoyu nagluyu ten'
Mezhdu mnoyu i moim spokojstviem!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
And yet I have seen thee happy with me.
I am no fool
To pole stupidly into iron.
I have heard your quick breaths
And seen your arms writhe toward me;
At those times
-God help us-
I was impelled to be a grand knight
And swagger and snap my fingers,
And explain my mind finely.
Oh, lost sweetheart,
I would that I had not been a grand knight,
I said: "Sweetheart."
Thou said'st: "Sweetheart."
And we preserved an admirable mimicry
Without heeding the drip of the blood
From my heart.
I vse zhe ty inogda byla schastliva so mnoyu.
YA ne nastol'ko glup,
CHtoby zrya bit'sya golovoj ob stenu.
YA slyshal tvoi bystrye vzdohi,
Videl, kak ty prostirala ko mne drozhashchie ruki...
V te vremena
- Spasi nas, Bozhe -
Iz menya hoteli sdelat' znatnogo gospodina,
CHvannogo, vzirayushchego na lyudej svysoka,
Izyskanno vyrazhayushchego svoi mysli.
Uvy, moya poteryannaya vozlyublennaya,
YA nesposoben byt' znatnym gospodinom.
YA govoril: - Lyubimaya!
Ty govorila: - Lyubimyj! -
I my prodolzhali staratel'no podlazhivat'sya
pod ostal'nyh,
Ne obrashchaya vnimaniya na krov',
Sochivshuyusya iz moego serdca.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I heard thee laugh,
And in this merriment
I defined the measure of my pain;
I knew that I was alone,
Alone with love,
Poor shivering love,
And he, little sprite,
Came to watch with me,
And at midnight
We were like two creatures by a dead camp-fire.
YA uslyshal, kak ty smeesh'sya,
I tvoe vesel'e otkrylo mne
Vsyu glubinu moego stradaniya.
YA znal, chto ostalsya odin,
Odin so svoej lyubov'yu,
ZHalkoj trepeshchushchej lyubov'yu;
Tol'ko malen'kij el'f priletel,
CHtob byt' so mnoj v chasy nochnogo bdeniya.
Vo mrake nochi
My pohodili na dve teni
U potuhshego, mertvogo kostra.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I wonder if sometimes in the dusk,
When the brave lights that gild thy evenings
Have not yet been touched with flame,
I wonder if sometimes in the dusk
Thou rememberest a time,
A time when thou loved me
And our love was to thee all?
Is the memory rubbish now?
An old gown
Worn in an age of other fashions?
Woe is me, oh, lost one,
For that love is now to me
A supernal dream,
White, white, white with many suns.
Mne trudno predstavit', chto poroyu v sumerkah,
Kogda krasochnye ogni, pozlativshie tvoi vechera,
Eshche ne razgorayutsya v polnuyu silu,
Mne trudno predstavit', chto poroyu v sumerkah
Ty vspominaesh' vremena,
Kogda ty lyubila menya
I nasha lyubov' byla dlya tebya vsem.
Neuzheli pamyat' ob etom teper' - nenuzhnyj hlam?
Sluchajno nadetoe staroe plat'e,
Davno vyshedshee iz mody?
Gore mne, o poteryannaya vozlyublennaya!
Ved' dlya menya sejchas eta lyubov' -
Divnaya mechta,
Svetlaya, svetlaya, svetlaya, kak mnozhestvo solnc!
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Love met me at noonday,
- Reckless imp,
To leave his shaded nights
And brave the glare,-
And I saw him then plainly
For a bungler,
A stupid, simpering, eyeless bungler,
Breaking the hearts of brave people
As the snivelling idiot-boy cracks his bowl,
And I cursed him,
Cursed him to and fro, back and forth,
Into all the silly mazes of his mind,
But in the end
He laughed and pointed to my breast,
Where a heart still beat for thee, beloved.
Lyubov' povstrechalas' mne v polden'
- Bespechnyj chertenok,
Pokinuvshij prikrytie temnyh nochej
I yavivshijsya pri yarkom svete, -
I ya togda yasno uvidel,
CHto ona - neumejka,
Glupaya, samodovol'naya, bezglazaya neumejka,
Razbivayushchaya serdca hrabryh lyudej,
Kak soplivyj durachok raskalyvaet svoyu chashku;
I ya proklyal ee,
S nog do golovy osypal proklyat'yami
Ee samu i durackuyu putanicu v ee mozgah.
No v otvet
Ona rassmeyalas' i ukazala perstom na moyu grud',
Gde serdce vse tak zhe bilos' dlya tebya, lyubimaya.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
I have seen thy face aflame
For love of me,
Thy fair arms go mad,
Thy lips tremble and mutter and rave.
And-surely-
This should leave a man content?
Thou lovest not me now,
But thou didst love me,
And in loving me once
Thou gavest me an eternal privilege,
For I can think of thee.
YA videl, kak lico tvoe raskrasnelos',
Ozarennoe lyubov'yu ko mne,
Prekrasnye ruki tvoi bescel'no bluzhdali,
Guby drozhali, bessvyazno sheptali chto-to...
I eto - nado polagat' -
Dolzhno polnost'yu ublagotvorit' cheloveka?
Ty bol'she ne lyubish' menya,
No prezhde ty menya lyubila
I tem samym
Darovala mne vechnuyu privilegiyu -
YA mogu dumat' o tebe.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Stihotvoreniya opublikovannye posmertno
A man adrift on a slim spar
A horizon smaller than the rim of a bottle
Tented waves rearing lashy dark points
The near whine of froth in circles.
God is cold.
The incessant raise and swing of the sea
And growl after growl of crest
The sinkings, green, seething, endless
The upheaval half-completed.
God is cold.
The seas are in the hollow of The Hand;
Oceans may be turned to a spray
Raining down through the stars
Because of a gesture of pity toward a babe.
Oceans may become grey ashes,
Die with a long moan and a roar
Amid the tumult of the fishes
And the cries of the ships,
Because The Hand beckons the mice.
A horizon smaller than a doomed assassin's cap,
Inky, surging tumults
A reeling, drunken sky and no sky
A pale hand sliding from a polished spar.
God is cold.
The puff of a coat imprisoning air:
A face kissing the water-death
A weary slow sway of a lost hand
And the sea, the moving sea, the sea.
God is cold.
CHelovek, ceplyayushchijsya za oblomok machty,
Gorizont, uzkij kak butylochnoe gorlyshko,
Navisayushchie gory voln s chernymi grebnyami,
Stony zybyashchejsya vokrug peny.
Bog bezuchasten.
Bespreryvnoe cheredovanie vzleta
i nizverzhen'ya valov,
Rokot, rokot voln,
Provaly mezhdu nimi - zelenye, burlyashchie,
bezdonnye,
Blizyashchayasya gibel'.
Bog bezuchasten.
Vse morya - v ladoni Ego ruki,
Vse okeany mogli by obratit'sya v vodyanye bryzgi
I prolit'sya dozhdem skvoz' zvezdy
Ot odnogo lish' Ego zhesta sostradaniya k rebenku.
Okeany mogli by stat' serym prahom,
Umeret' s dolgimi stenan'yami i voem
Sredi smyateniya ryb
I reva korablej
Ottogo, chto ruka Ego pomanila k sebe myshej.
Gorizont, uzkij kak chasha v rukah
osuzhdennogo ubijcy,
Bujstvo chernil'no-chernyh valov,
SHatayushcheesya, zahlestyvaemoe volnami nebo,
Slabeyushchaya ruka, otpustivshaya skol'zkij
oblomok machty.
Bog bezuchasten.
Poslednij, bescennyj glotok vozduha,
Pocelui vodyanoj smerti na lice,
Dolgij, ustalyj vzmah ischezayushchej v puchine ruki
I more, bespokojnoe more, more.
Bog bezuchasten.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Chant you loud of punishments,
Of the twisting of the heart's poor strings
Of the crash of the lightning's fierce revenge.
Then sing I of the supple-souled men
And the strong strong gods
That shall meet in times hereafter
And the amaze of the gods
At the strength of the men.
-The strong, strong gods-
-And the supple-souled men-
Ty vopiesh' o rasplate,
O razorvannyh strunah chelovecheskih serdec,
O strashnyh, pronzayushchih naskvoz' molniyah vozmezdiya.
YA zhe poyu o lyudyah s ranimoj dushoyu
I o sil'nyh, moguchih bogah;
O tom, kak oni vstretyatsya kogda-nibud' -
I bogi budut potryaseny
Stojkost'yu lyudej.
- Sil'nye, moguchie bogi -
- I lyudi s ranimoj dushoyu -
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A naked woman and a dead dwarf;
Wealth and indifference.
Poor dwarf!
Reigning with foolish kings
And dying mid bells and wine
Ending with a desperate comic palaver
While before thee and after thee
Endures the eternal clown-
-The eternal clown-
A naked woman.
Nagaya zhenshchina i mertvyj karlik;
Izobilie i beschuvstvennost'.
Bednyj karlik!
Ty carstvoval vmeste s korolyami-glupcami,
Umiral pod zvon bubencov i bokalov,
Okanchival zhizn' poslednej, otchayannoj shutkoj;
Odnako i do, i posle tebya,
Vo vse vremena sushchestvoval vechnyj kloun -
- Vechnyj kloun -
Nagaya zhenshchina.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Little birds of the night
Aye, they have much to tell
Perching there in rows
Blinking at me with their serious eyes
Recounting of flowers they have seen and loved
Of meadows and groves of the distance
And pale sands at the foot of the sea
And breezes that fly in the leaves
They are vast in experience
These little birds that come in the night.
Malen'kie ptichki v nochi,
O mnogom, mogli by oni rasskazat',
Sidya ryadkom na vetke,
Poglyadyvaya na menya svoimi ser'eznymi glazkami,
Vspominaya cvety, chto dovelos' im videt' i lyubit',
Dalekie luga i roshchi,
Blednyj pesok pod nogami u morya
I veterok, kolyhavshij listvu.
Oni stol'ko vsego perevidali,
|ti malen'kie ptichki, priletevshie noch'yu.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Unwind my riddle.
Cruel as hawks the hours fly;
Wounded men seldom come home to die;
The hard waves see an arm flung high;
Scorn hits strong because of a lie;
Yet there exists a mystic tie.
Unwind my riddle.
Razgadaj moyu zagadku.
CHasy - kak yastreby, bezzhalostnye, -
bystro;
Kto ranen - redko doma umiraet;
Moguchaya ruka volnen'em morya upravlyaet;
Nespravedlivaya nasmeshka bol'no uyazvlyaet;
I vse eto tainstvennaya svyaz' soedinyaet.
Razgadaj moyu zagadku.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Ah, haggard purse, why ope thy mouth
Like a greedy urchin
I have naught wherewith to feed thee
Thy wan checks have ne'er been puffed
Thou knowest not the fill of pride
Why then gape at me
In fashion of a wronged one
Thou do smilest wanly
And reproaches! me with thine empty stomach
Thou knowest I'd sell my steps to the grave
If t'were but honestie
Ha, leer not so,
Name me no names of wrongs committed with thee
No ghost can lay hand on thee and me
We've been too thin to do sin
What, liar? When thou was filled of gold, didst I riot?
And give thee no time to eat?
No, thou brown devil, thou art stuffed now with lies as
with wealth,
The one gone to let in the other.
|j, toshchij moj koshel', zachem ty razinul past'
Kak prozhorlivyj mal'chishka?
Mne nechem kormit' tebya!
Tvoi shcheki vsegda byli vpalymi,
Tebe neznakomo chuvstvo gordosti,
Pochemu zhe ty ustavilsya na menya,
Kak budto ya tebya obidel?
Ty krivo ulybaesh'sya
I poprekaesh' menya svoim pustym bryuhom,
Ty, znayushchij, chto ya prodal by dazhe shagi,
otdelyayushchie menya ot mogily,
Esli b eta sdelka mogla byt' chestnoj.
|j, ne smotri na menya tak,
Ne nazyvaj imena tayashchihsya v tebe porokov -
Ni duhu, ni zhivoj dushe ne otdam sebya i tebya -
Nam s toboj slishkom ne povezlo, chtob vershit' zlo.
CHto? Poslushaj, lzhec, kogda ty byl nabit zolotom,
razve ya protestoval?
Razve ne daval tebe vozmozhnostej nasytit'sya?
Net, korichnevyj d'yavol, ty polon teper' lozh'yu,
slovno zvonkoj monetoj -
Oni ved' ne mogut sushchestvovat' drug bez druga.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
One came from the skies
-They said-
And with a band he bound them
A man and a woman.
Now to the man
The band was gold
And to another, iron
And to the woman, iron.
But this second man,
He took his opinion and went away
But, by heavens,
He was none too wise.
Nekto spustilsya s nebes
- Rasskazyvayut lyudi -
I svyazal lentoj dvoih -
Muzhchinu i zhenshchinu.
Muzhchina dumal,
CHto lenta zlatotkannaya,
Drugoj zhe muzhchina - chto ona stal'naya;
ZHenshchine ona tozhe kazalas' stal'noj.
Odnako etot vtoroj muzhchina
Mahnul rukoj i udalilsya vosvoyasi.
Klyanus' nebesami,
On byl ne slishkom umen.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A god came to a man
And said to him thus:
"I have an apple
It is a glorious apple
Aye, I swear by my ancestors
Of the eternities before this eternity
It is an apple that is from
The inner thoughts of heaven's greatest.
"And this I will hang here
And then I will adjust thee here
Thus-you may reach it.
And you must stifle your nostrils
And control your hands
And your eyes
And sit for sixty years
But,-leave be the apple."
The man answered in this wise:
"Oh, most interesting God
What folly is this?
Behold, thou hast moulded my desires
Even as thou hast moulded the apple.
"How, then?
Can I conquer my life
Which is thou?
My desires?
Look you, fookish god
If I thrust behind me
Sixty white years
I am a greater god than God
And, then, complacent splendor,
Thou wilt see that the golden angels
That sing pink hymns
Around thy throne-top
Will be lower than my feet."
Bog yavilsya cheloveku
I skazal emu:
- U menya est' yabloko.
|to chudesnoe yabloko,
Klyanus' moimi predkami,
ZHivshimi zadolgo do nyneshnih vremen.
|to yabloko, rozhdennoe
Sokrovennymi myslyami nebesnyh patriarhov.
YA podveshu ego zdes',
A potom posazhu ryadom tebya
Tak, chtoby ty mog ego dostat'.
No ty dolzhen zazhat' svoi nozdri,
Ne davat' volyu rukam
I glazam
I prosidet' zdes' shest'desyat let,
Ostaviv yabloko netronutym.
CHelovek otvetil tak:
- O zabavnejshij iz bogov!
CHto eto za vzdor?
Ty vydumal dlya menya vozhdelenie,
Kak vydumal i yabloko.
CHto zhe budet?
Mogu li ya rasporyazhat'sya moej zhizn'yu,
Prinadlezhashchej tebe?
Moimi zhelaniyami?
Podumaj, o glupejshij iz bogov,
Esli ya vybroshu na veter
SHest'desyat luchshih let moej zhizni,
To stanu bolee velikim bogom, chem ty sam,
I togda, samodovol'nyj vlastitel',
Ty uvidish', chto zlatokudrye angely,
Raspevayushchie nezemnye gimny
Vokrug tvoego trona,
Okazhutsya nizhe moih kolen.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There is a grey thing that lives in the tree-tops
None know the horror of its sight
Save those who meet death in the wilderness
But one is enabled
To see branches move at its passing
To hear at times the wail of black laughter
And to come often upon mystic places
Places where the thing has just been.
Seroe sushchestvo obitaet na vershinah derev'ev.
Nikto ne znaet, kak uzhasen ego vzglyad,
Krome teh, kto vstrechalsya so Smert'yu
sredi pustyni.
No koe-komu sluchalos' videt',
Kak shevelyatsya vetki pod ego kryl'yami,
Slyshat' raskaty zlobnogo smeha,
Okazyvat'sya v takih mestah, gde igraet muzyka, -
Tam, gde seroe sushchestvo tol'ko chto pobyvalo.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
If you would seek a friend among men
Remember: they are crying their wares.
If you would ask of heaven of men
Remember: they are crying their wares
If you seek the welfare of men
Remember: they are crying their wares
If you would bestow a curse upon men
Remember: they are crying their wares
Crying their wares
Crying their wares
If you seek the attention of men
Remember:
Help them or hinder them as they cry their wares.
Esli ty ishcheshch' druga sredi lyudej,
Pomni: oni rashvalivayut svoi tovary.
Esli ty hochesh' byt' schastlivym sredi lyudej,
Pomni: oni rashvalivayut svoi tovary.
Esli ty zhazhdesh' zhit' dlya blaga lyudej,
Pomni: oni rashvalivayut svoi tovary.
Esli ty obrushivaesh' proklyatiya na lyudej,
Pomni: oni rashvalivayut svoi tovary,
Rashvalivayut svoi tovary,
Rashvalivayut svoi tovary.
Esli ty zhelaesh' privlech' vnimanie lyudej,
Pomogi ili pomeshaj im,
Kogda oni rashvalivayut svoi tovary.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Esli ty ishcheshch' druga sredi lyudej
Pomni: oni reklamiruyut svoi tovary.
Esli ty prosish' boga za etih lyudej
Pomni: oni reklamiruyut svoi tovary.
Esli ty ishcheshch' blaga dlya etih lyudej,
Pomni: oni reklamiruyut svoi tovary.
Esli ty hochesh' predat' proklyatiyu lyudej
Pomni: oni reklamiruyut svoi tovary.
Reklamiruyut svoi tovary
Reklamiruyut svoi tovary
Esli ty hochesh' privlech' vnimanie lyudej
Pomni:
Pomogi ili pomeshaj im reklamirovat' ih tovary.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
A lad and a maid at a curve in the stream
And a shine of soft silken waters
Where the moon-beams fall through a hemlock's boughs
Oh, night dismal, night glorious.
A lad and a maid at the rail of a bridge
With two shadows adrift on the water
And the wind sings low in the grass on the shore
Oh, night dismal, night glorious.
A lad and a maid, in a canoe,
And a paddle making silver turmoil
YUnosha i deva u izluchiny reki
I siyanie nezhnyh shelkovistyh vod
V lunnom svete, l'yushchemsya skvoz' vetvi ternovnika.
O nochnaya t'ma, nochnoe velikolepie!
YUnosha i deva, opershiesya na perila mosta,
Dve teni, koleblemye techeniem,
I veter, poyushchij v trave na beregu, pod nimi...
O nochnaya t'ma, nochnoe velikolepie!
YUnosha i deva v lodke
I veslo, ostavlyayushchee na vode serebristyj sled...
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A solder, young in years, young in ambitions
Alive as no grey-beard is alive
Laid his heart and his hopes before duty
And went staunchly into the tempest of war.
There did the bitter red winds of battle
Swirl 'gainst his youth, beat upon his ambitions,
Drink his cool clear blood of manhood
Until at coming forth time
He was alive merely as the greybeard is alive.
And for this-
The nation rendered to him a flower
A little thing-a flower
Aye, but yet not so little
For this flower grew in the nation's heart
A wet, soft blossom
From tears of her who loved her son
Even when the black battle rages
Made his face the face of furious urchin,
And this she cherished
And finally laid it upon the breast of him.
A little thing-this flower?
No-it was the flower of duty
That inhales black smoke-clouds
And fastens it's roots in bloody sod
And yet comes forth so fair, so fragrant-
It's birth is sunlight in grimest, darkest place.
Soldat, yunyj godami, yunyj dushoyu,
Oshchushchavshij polnotu zhizni, nevedomuyu starcam,
Pozhertvoval svoimi chuvstvami i nadezhdami
radi dolga
I po sobstvennoj vole popal v peklo vojny.
Tam zhguchie alye vihri srazhenij
Oborvali cvet ego yunosti, razbili ego nadezhdy,
Issushili chistyj prohladnyj istochnik ego sil,
I vot nakonec nastalo vremya,
Kogda zhizn' v nem uzhe edva teplilas',
kak v dryahlom starce.
I za vse eto
Strana podarila emu cvetok,
Vsego lish' cvetok.
Da, no eto ne tak uzh malo -
Ved' cvetok tot ros v samom serdce strany,
Nezhnyj, vlazhnyj rostok,
Polityj slezami toj, chto lyubila svoego syna
Dazhe togda, kogda chernaya yarost' bitvy
Prevrashchala ego lico v lik zlobnogo d'yavola;
|tot cvetok ona leleyala
I v konce koncov prilozhila k ego grudi.
Razve cvetok - eto malo?
Net, ved' to byl cvetok voinskogo dolga,
Vdyhavshij chernye kluby dyma,
Pustivshij korni v okrovavlennuyu pochvu,
I vse zhe vyrosshij prekrasnym i dushistym.
Ego rozhdenie - kak voshod solnca
v sredotochii t'my.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A row of thick pillars
Consciously bracing for the weight
Of a vanished roof
The bronze light of sunset strikes through them,
And over a floor made for slow rites.
There is no sound of singing
But, aloft, a great and terrible bird
Is watching a cur, beaten and cut,
That crawls to the cool shadows of the pillars
To die.
Ryad moshchnyh kolonn,
Sposobnyh vyderzhat' ves
Davno uzhe otsutstvuyushchej kryshi;
Bronzovyj svet zakata pronikaet mezhdu nimi
I osveshchaet pol, prednaznachennyj dlya
torzhestvennyh shestvij.
Teper' zdes' ne slyshno zvukov peniya;
Lish' ogromnaya strashnaya ptica v vyshine
Sledit za izbitoj, izranennoj sobachonkoj,
Polzushchej v prohladnuyu ten' kolonn,
CHtoby tam umeret'.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Oh, a rare old wine ye brewed for me
Flagons of bespair
A deep deep drink of this wine of life
Flagons of despair.
Dream of riot and blood and screams
The rolling white eyes of dying men
The terrible heedless courage of babes
O staroe terpkoe vino, ty vyderzhano dlya menya
V kuvshinah otchayan'ya.
Mnogo-mnogo glotkov etogo vina zhizni
V kuvshinah otchayan'ya.
Vo sne - smuta, krov', kriki,
Umirayushchie lyudi, belki ih zakativshihsya glaz,
Uzhasayushchaya bezrassudnaya hrabrost' detej.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
There exists the eternal fact of conflict
And-next-a mere sense of locality
Afterward we derive sustenance from the winds.
Afterward we grip upon this sense of locality.
Afterward, we become patriots.
The godly vice of patriotism makes us slaves,
And-let us surrender to this falsity
Let us be patriots
Then welcome us the practical men
Thrumming on a thousand drums
The practical men, God help us.
They cry aloud to be led to war
Ah-
They have been poltroons on a thousand fields
And the sacked sad city of New York is their record
Furious to face the Spaniard, these people, and
crawling worms before their task
They name serfs and send charity in bulk to better men
They play at being free, these people of New York
Who are too well-dressed to protest against infamy
Vo vse vremena sushchestvuyut konflikty
I porozhdennoe imi chuvstvo gruppovoj obshchnosti.
My privykaem cherpat' uverennost' v etom chuvstve,
My privykaem ceplyat'sya za etu obshchnost',
My stanovimsya patriotami.
Patriotizm, etot svyashchennyj porok,
delaet nas rabami.
I vse zhe poprobuem primirit'sya s etoj lozh'yu,
Budem patriotami.
|to srazu zhe odobryat delovye lyudi,
B'yushchie v tysyachi barabanov
Delovye lyudi, spasi nas. Bozhe.
Oni nadsazhivayut glotki, chtoby
sprovocirovat' vojnu,
Da-da, oni,
Tysyachi raz prazdnovavshie trusa na pole boya.
Unylyj, opustoshennyj N'yu-Jork -
pamyatnik ih deyaniyam.
Oni neistovstvuyut pri vide ispanca*, eti lyudi,
i, slovno chervi, uvilivayut ot voinskogo dolga.
Oni imenuyut slugami
i odarivayut milostynej teh, kogo ne stoyat.
Oni prevratili Svobodu v igrushku,
eti lyudi iz N'yu-Jorka,
Slishkom horosho odetye, chtoby protestovat'
protiv nespravedlivosti.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
{* Stihotvorenie napisano (prim. perevodchika) v gody ispano-amerikanskoj vojny}
On the brown trail
We hear the grind of your carts
To our villages,
Laden with food
Laden with food
We know you are come to our help
But-
Why do you impress upon is
Your foreign happiness?
We know it not.
(Hark!
Carts laden with food
Laden with food)
We weep because we dont understand
But your gifts form into a yoke
The food turns into a yoke
(Hark!
Carts laden with food
Laden with food)
It is our mission to vanish
Grateful because of full mouths
Destiny-Darkness
Time understands
And ye-ye bigoted men of a moment-
- Wait -
Await your turn.
My slyshim, kak k nashim seleniyam,
Skripya, pod®ezzhayut po pyl'noj doroge
Vashi povozki,
Gruzhenye edoj,
Gruzhenye edoj.
My znaem, chto vy prishli nam na pomoshch'.
No
Zachem vy, chuzhezemcy,
Oshelomlyaete nas svoim dostatkom?
Nam on nevedom.
(Slyhali?
Povozki, gruzhenye edoj!
Gruzhenye edoj!)
My plachem ot radosti, ne ponimaya,
CHto vashi dary delayut nas rabami,
Pishcha oborachivaetsya yarmom.
(Slyhali?
Povozki, gruzhenye edoj!
Gruzhenye edoj!)
Nam prednaznacheno ischeznut' s lica zemli
Blagodarnymi, s zheludkami, nabitymi pishchej.
Nas ozhidaet T'ma.
Vremya podvedet itog,
I vy, vy, neterpelivcy,
zhivushchie segodnyashnim dnem,
- ZHdite -
Prob'et vash chas.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
All-feeling God, hear in the war-night
The rolling voices of a nation;
Through dusky billows of darkness
See the flash, the under-light, of bared swords -
-Whirling gleams like wee shells
Deep in the streams of the universe-
Bend and see a people, 0, God,
A people rebuked, accursed,
By him of the many lungs
And by him of the bruised weary war-drum
(The chanting disintegrate and the two-faced eagle)
Bend and mark our steps, O, God.
Mark well, mark well,
Father of the Never-Ending Circles
And if the path, the new path, lead awry
Then in the forest of the lost standards
Suffer us to grope and bleed apace
For the wisdom is thine.
Bend and see a people, 0, God,
A people applauded, acclaimed,
By him of the raw red shoulders
The manacle-marked, the thin victim
(He lies white amid the smoking cane)
[NO STANZA BREAK]
- And if the path, the path, leads straight -
Then - 0, God - then bare the great bronze arm;
Swing high the blaze of the chained stars
And let look and heed
(The chanting disintegrate and the two-faced eagle)
For we go, we go in a lunge of a long blue corps
And - to Thee we commit our lifeless sons,
The convulsed and furious dead.
(They shall be white amid the smoking cane)
For, the seas shall not bar us;
The capped mountains shall not hold us back
We shall sweep and swarm through jungle and pool,
Then let the savage one bend his high chin
To see on his breast, the sullen glow of the
death-medals
For we know and we say our gift.
His prize is death, deep doom.
(He shall be white amid smoking cane)
Vsevedushchij Bog, uslysh' v nochi vojny
Rokochushchie golosa naroda;
Vo mrachnoj stremnine t'my
Razglyadi vspyshki, dal'nij blesk obnazhennyh
mechej,
Kruzhashchiesya otbleski, podobnye malen'kim
rakushkam
Na dne vselennoj.
Nagnis' i vglyadis' v lyudej, Bozhe,
V lyudej, zaklejmennyh pozorom,
Proklyatyh tysyachami ust,
Tysyachami nadtresnutyh odnozvuchnyh barabanov
vojny
(Poyushchaya smert' i dvuglavyj orel).
Nagnis' i zamechaj nash put', Bozhe,
Zamechaj, staratel'no zamechaj,
Sozdatel' Zamknutyh Krugov.
I esli tropa, novaya tropa, vedet pod otkos,
Togda v dremuchem lesu utrachennyh orientirov
Zastav' nas bresti na oshchup' i vskore istech'
krov'yu,
Ibo Tvoe dostoyanie - mudrost'.
Nagnis' i vglyadis' v lyudej, Bozhe,
V lyudej, kotorym rukopleshchet i poet hvalu
Von tot izmozhdennyj, iskalechennyj kandalami
stradalec
S izranennym, krovotochashchim torsom
(On lezhit blednyj sredi dymyashchegosya hvorosta).
Esli zhe tropa, novaya tropa, vedet pryamo -
Togda, Bozhe, vzmahni svoej bronzovoj rukoj
I smeti s nebosvoda ogni sozvezdij,
CHtoby lyudi smotreli i sodrogalis'
(Poyushchaya smert' i dvuglavyj orel). -
Ved' my idem, shagaem dlinnoj verenicej
golubyh polkov,
Vveriv Tebe nashih bezdyhannyh synovej,
Strashnyh, skryuchennyh mertvecov
(Oni budut lezhat' blednye sredi dymyashchegosya
hvorosta).
Morya ne ostanovyat nas,
Zasnezhennye gory ne zastavyat povernut' nazad.
My prorvemsya, projdem skvoz' dzhungli,
preodoleem reki,
A potom zastavim dikarya sklonit' gorduyu golovu,
CHtoby razglyadet' na grudi zloveshchee rdenie
medalej smerti -
My ved' znaem i voshvalyaem nashi dary.
Ego nagrada - smert', neotvratimaya gibel'
(On budet lezhat' blednyj sredi dymyashchegosya
hvorosta).
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
A grey and boiling street
Alive with rickety noise.
Suddenly, a hearse,
Trailed by black carriages
Takes a deliberate way
Through this chasm of commerce;
And children look eagerly
To find the misery behind the shades.
Hired men, impatient, drive with a longing
To reach quickly the grave-side, the end of
solemnity.
Yes, let us have it over.
Drive, man, drive.
Flog your sleek-hided beasts,
Gallop - gallop - gallop.
Let us finish it quickly.
Seraya burlyashchaya ulica,
Neumolchnyj gul i nezdorovoe ozhivlenie.
Vot chernaya kareta
S priceplennym katafalkom
Koe-kak probiraetsya
Skvoz' eto torzhishche,
I deti zhadno vsmatrivayutsya,
Pytayas' razglyadet' Gore za zanaveskami.
Sluzhiteli nervnichayut, toropyatsya
Poskoree dobrat'sya do kladbishcha,
poslednej obiteli vsego sushchego.
Da, davajte konchat' s etim.
Pogonyaj, kucher, pogonyaj,
Nahlestyvaj skotinku po losnyashchejsya shkure.
Galopom... galopom... galopom.
Pokonchim s etim skoree.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Seraya, burlivaya ulica,
Pul'siruyushchaya grohotom.
Vdrug - pohoronnyj kortezh,
Neskol'ko chernyh karet,
S trudom prokladyvayushchih put'
CHerez bezdnu biznesa.
I mal'chishki pytayutsya rassmotret'
CHuzhoe gore za zanaveskami.
Naemnye lyudi gonyat i v hvost i v grivu,
Toropyatsya k kladbishchu, k koncu etoj ceremonii.
Da, konchaj eto delo.
Goni, kucher, goni.
Hleshchi losnyashchihsya tvarej.
Galop - galop - galop.
Pokonchim s etim bystree.
Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo
Bottles and bottles and bottles
In a merry den
And the man smiles of women
Untruthing licence and joy.
Countless lights
Making oblique and confusing multiptiplication
In mirrors
And the light returns again to the faces.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A cellar, and a death-pale child.
A woman
Ministering commonly, degradedly,
Without manners.
A murmur and a silence
Or silence and a murmur
And then a finished silence.
The moon beams practically upon the cheap bed.
An hour, with it's million trinkets of joy or pain,
Matters little in cellar or merry den
Since all is death.
Butyli,butyli,butyli
V dome vesel'ya,
I muzhchina ulybaetsya damam,
Izobrazhaya neprinuzhdennost' i ozhivlenie.
Beschislennye luchi sveta,
Perekreshchivayas', slivayas',
Otrazhayas' v zerkalah,
Vnov' i vnov' ozaryayut lica lyudej.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Podval, mertvenno-blednyj rebenok,
ZHenshchina u ego posteli -
Otchayavshayasya, padayushchaya s nog,
Zabyvshaya o sebe.
SHepot i molchanie
Ili molchanie i shepot,
A potom - vechnoe molchanie,
Luna, bezuchastno osveshchayushchaya uboguyu krovat'...
Odin chas s ego besschetnymi mgnoven'yami
radosti i boli,
Nemnogo on znachit v podvale i v dome vesel'ya
S teh por kak vse podvlastno Smerti.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
intermingled,
There come in wild revelling strains
Black words, stinging
That murder flowers
The horror of profane speculation.
...v besporyadke
Vyplesnulis' radostnym bujnym potokom
Zlye slova, zhalyashchie
Cvety-ubijcy,
Rozhdennye uzhasnymi razdum'yami zabluzhdayushchegosya.
The patent of a lord
And the bangle of a bandit
Make argument
Which God solves
Only after lighting more candles.
Mantiya markiza
I kandaly karmannika -
|to argumenty,
Kotorye Bog rassmatrivaet
Tol'ko posle togo,
Kak zazhzhet pobol'she svechej.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Tell me not in joyous numbers
We can make our lives sublime
By - well, at least, not by
Dabbling much in rhyme.
He tverdi v strofah pompeznyh:
"Vsem k Velich'yu put' otkryt!"
Vsem li? Dazhe tem, kto sotni
Prepustyh stihov plodit?
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
My cross!
Your cross?
The real cross
Is made of pounds,
Dollars or francs.
Here I bear my palms for the silly nails
To teach the lack
- The great pain of lack -
Of coin.
Moj krest!
Tvoj krest?
Nastoyashchij krest
Sdelan iz frankov, funtov,
Dollarov.
Vot ya protyagivayu ladoni -
Protknite ih gvozdyami,
CHtoby stala mne vedoma krestnaya muka
- Velikaya krestnaya muka -
Bezdenezh'e.
Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo
Primechaniya
Izbrannye stihotvoreniya Stivena Krejna publikovalis' v sbornike "Poeziya
SSHA" (M., 1982) v perevodah A. Sergeeva i V. Britanishskogo. V nastoyashchem
izdanii vpervye predstavleno polnoe sobranie stihotvorenij Krejna v
perevodah na russkij yazyk.
Numeraciya stihotvorenij i raspredelenie ih po razdelam sootvetstvuyut
naibolee polnomu i kriticheskomu izdaniyu stihov Krejna The Poems of Stephen
Crane. A critical edition by Joseph Katz. New York, 1966 (dalee v tekste:
Dzhozef Katc).
Stihotvoreniya 1 - 68 vpervye opublikovany v knige The Black Riders and
Other Lines by Stephen Crane. Boston, 1895 (dalee v tekste: "CHernye
vsadniki").
1. V "Amerikanskoj antologii 1783-1893 |dmunda Klarensa Stedmena (1900;
dalee v tekste: "Amerikanskaya antologiya") stihotvorenie imeet nazvanie "The
Black Riders" ("CHernye vsadniki"), V sentyabre 1894 goda Krejn utverdilsya v
reshenii dat' eto nazvanie vsej knige stihov, gotovivshejsya v eto vremya k
izdaniyu. Pervaya stroka stihotvoreniya v pervonachal'nom variante vyglyadela
tak: "Black Riders rode forth". Stihotvorenie prinyato schitat' parafrazom
biblejskogo teksta o chetyreh vsadnikah Apokalipsisa (Otkroveniya, 6: 2, 4, 5,
8), hotya Thomas Beer v knige "Stephen Crane: A study in American Letters"
(New York, 1928; dalee v tekste: Tomas Bir) rasskazyvaet o tom, chto v
detstve Stiven Krejn videl son o "chernyh vsadnikah na chernyh konyah, mchashchihsya
k nemu ot linii priboya".
6. Krejnovskaya versiya sotvoreniya mira; nado skazat', ves'ma
ironicheskaya.
10. Tomas Bir privodit v svoej knige tekst pis'ma Krejna k Helen Trent
(predpolozhitel'no ot 20 sentyabrya 1891 goda), v kotorom mozhno prosledit'
analogii so stihotvoreniem "Takih krasivyh ruk, kak u vas, net ni u kogo.
Vam sledovalo by vsegda hodit' v plat'e bez rukavov. Esli b ya mog vsegda
videt' vashi ruki! Pust' togda lishus' ya poslednih nadezhd, pust' ischeznet ves'
mir - kakaya raznica? Ne prihodilos' li vam vo sne provalivat'sya v bezdnu, no
ne boyat'sya etogo, potomu chto ryadom s vami tot, kto vas ohranyaet?.."
12. |pigraf - parafraz biblejskogo teksta (Ishod, 20: 5): "...ibo ya
Gospod', Bog tvoj, Bog revnitel', nakazyvayushchij detej za vinu otcov do
tret'ego i chetvertogo roda, nenavidyashchih menya".
22. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" imeet nazvanie "Ancestry" ("Predki" ili
"Proishozhdenie").
25. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" imeet nazvanie "Why?" ("Pochemu?").
27. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" imeet nazvanie "Content"
("Udovletvorennyj").
33. Edinstvennoe stihotvorenie Krejna, voshedshee v oba prizhiznennyh
sbornika ego stihov. Issledovateli ego tvorchestva do sih por sporyat, byl li
on nastol'ko zabyvchiv, chto upustil iz vidu fakt publikacii stihotvoreniya v
pervoj knige, ili ono popalo vo vtoroj ego sbornik stihov v poslednij
moment vmesto kakogo-to isklyuchennogo iz nego stihotvoreniya.
45. Krejn ironicheski perefraziruet nazvanie izvestnoj v Novoj Anglii
eshche i v ego vremya knigi "Novoanglijskij bukvar', ili Moloko dlya mladencev,
izvlechennoe iz soscov oboih svyashchennyh zavetov", sostavlennoj v 80-h godah
XVII veka i pereizdavavshejsya desyatki raz (primechanie V. L.Britanishskogo).
65. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" - pod nazvaniem "Scaped" ("Uletevshie"),
69-73. Uil'yams i Starret, sostaviteli bibliografii publikacij Krejna,
vyskazali predpolozhenie, chto nastoyashchij cikl stihotvorenij pervonachal'no
prednaznachalsya dlya publikacii v knige "CHernye vsadniki", odnako Dzhozef Katc
schitaet eto predpolozhenie nedostatochno obosnovannym. Pervaya publikaciya - v
zhurnale "Bookman" (maj 1896 goda).
74. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" (iyun' 1898 goda). V knige "Pesni
ispano-amerikanskoj vojny. Polnoe sobranie stihov, opublikovannyh v perio-
dike vo vremya vojny s Ispaniej", sostavlennoj Sidneem A. Uizerbi (Detrojt,
1898) stihotvorenie imeet nazvanie "The Blue Battalions" ("Golubye
batal'ony"). V sostavlennom samim Krejnom spiske publikacij svoih stihov v
periodike (dalee - "Spisok-1") - to zhe nazvanie. Pri posmertnom izdanii
stihov Krejna stihotvorenie 74 neodnokratno vklyuchalos' v tekst knigi "Vojna
dobraya". Golubye batal'ony - goluboj cvet byl u mundirov armii severyan v
amerikanskoj grazhdanskoj vojne 1861-1865 gg.
75. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v dekabre 1898 goda (na oblozhke).
76-112 - stihotvoreniya raznyh let, vposledstvii sobrannye Krejnom vo
vtoruyu svoyu knigu stihov "War is Kind by Stephen Crane". New York, 1899
(dalee v tekste: "Vojna dobraya").
76. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Bookman" v fevrale 1896 goda pod nazvaniem
"War is Kind" ("Vojna dobraya"). Tak zhe nazyvalos' ono i v odnom iz
sobstvennoruchno sostavlennyh Krejnom spiskov svoih stihotvorenij (dalee v
tekste: "Spisok-2"). Po mneniyu Dzhozefa Katca, napisano v pervoj polovine
1895 goda. Kak i v predydushchem sbornike stihov, pervoe stihotvorenie novoj
knigi dalo ej nazvanie. Darya ekzemplyar svoego romana "Alyj znak doblesti"
Uil'yamu Dinu Houelsu, Krejn na frontispise knigi napisal eto svoe
stihotvorenie i postavil pod nim datu: 17 avgusta 1895 goda, hotya podaril
knigu, ochevidno, tol'ko cherez neskol'ko mesyacev; vozmozhno dazhe, k Novomu
godu. Dzhozef Katc schitaet, chto ukazannaya data ne yavlyaetsya datoj napisaniya
stihotvoreniya.
77. CHernovik datirovan 28 dekabrya 1895 goda, hotya stihotvorenie,
predpolozhitel'no, napisano neskol'ko ran'she. Pervaya publikaciya - v zhurnale
"Philistine" v fevrale 1896 goda. V odnom iz chernovikov Krejna i v
"Spiske-2" imeetsya zaglavie: "The Shell and the Pines" ("Rakushka i sosny");
v "Spiske-1" zaglavie: "The Sea to the Pines" ("Okean - ili more - beseduet
s sosnami").
78. Odno iz rannih stihotvorenij Krejna. Pervaya publikaciya - v zhurnale
"Philistine" v aprele 1896 goda. V "Spiske-1" zagolovok: "The Sea - Point of
View" ("More s raznyh tochek zreniya"). Isklyucheno izdatelyami iz teksta pervoj
knigi stihov Krejna (sm. predislovie). Interesno, chto Krejn v etom
stihotvorenii kak by predugadyvaet, chto popadaet v korablekrushenie.
79, 80. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
81. Napisano do oktyabrya 1896 goda. Vpervye opublikovano v zhurnale
"Bookman" v oktyabre 1896 goda pod nazvaniem "Lines" ("Stroki"), V "Spiske-2"
nazvanie: "I explain the path of a ship" ("YA ob®yasnyayu put' korablya"). Melvin
SHoberlin v 1947 godu opublikoval stihotvornyj otryvok iz pis'ma Krejna k
Kore |tel' Styuart (budushchej Kore Krejn):
Lyubov' prihodit
Kak vysokaya bystraya ten' korablya v nochi.
Na mgnovenie -
Muzyka vodyanyh vodovorotov,
Vahtennyj kolokol,
Byt' mozhet, ch'i-to vykriki,
Verenica zolotyh otbleskov -
I sudno tonet v tainstve tumana.
Potom - tishina,
Samo voploshchenie tishiny -
Molchanie morya v nochi.
Per. A Kudryavickogo
Pis'mo Kore napisano v yanvare 1897 goda. Stihotvorenie iz pis'ma
(razbivka anglijskogo teksta na stroki sdelana pervym publikatorom) imeet,
bez somneniya, obshchie cherty so stihotvoreniem 81. V dekabre 1896 goda v
zhurnale "Bookman" byla pomeshchena stat'ya kritika U. S Bina "Stihi Stivena
Kreina", vostorzhenno hvalebnaya, no vyderzhannaya, po opredeleniyu Dzhozefa
Katca, "v ekstravagantnom duhe"; pomimo prochego, tam soderzhitsya parodiya na
stihotvorenie 81. "I explain the crooked track of a coon at night" ("YA
ob®yasnyayu petlyayushchij sled enota v nochi"). Horosho hot', sled enota, a ne zapah
skunsa!
82. Vpervye napechatano v roskoshno izdannom... menyu (!) obeda,
ustroennogo redakciej zhurnala "Philistine" v chest' Stivena Krejna. ZHurnal
zatem opublikoval stihotvorenie v yanvarskom nomere za 1896 god. V "Spiske-1"
nazvanie: "The White Birches" ("Belye berezy").
83. Vpervye - v zhurnale "The Roycroft Quarterly" v mae 1896 goda. V
"Spiske-1" nazvanie. "The Knight and His Horse" ("Rycar' i ego kon'").
84. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya". V "Spiske-1" i "Spiske-2"
nazvanie: "The Candid Man" ("Pryamodushnyj chelovek").
85. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v aprele 1898 goda na chetvertoj
stranice oblozhki.
86. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v mae 1898 goda pod nazvaniem
"Lines" ("Stroki").
87. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya",
88. Vpervye - tam zhe. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" - pod nazvaniem "The
Wayfarer" ("Putnik").
89. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v dekabre 1895 goda. V "Spiske-1"
pod nazvaniem "The City" ("Gorod"); v "Spiske-2" - pod nazvaniem "The Noise
of the City" ("Gorodskoj shum").
90. Napisano ne pozzhe nachala 1897 goda, veroyatno, v gorodke Hartford,
shtat N'yu-Jork, gde brat Kreina Uil'yam byl sud'ej. "V Hartforde ya izuchayu
nuvorishej. Tamoshnij klub ot menya vsego v treh milyah, i tam popadayutsya
nekotorye lyubopytnye obrazchiki etoj porody lyudej", - pishet Krejn 11
fevralya 1896 goda Nelli Kruz, devushke iz Ogajo, s kotoroj on poznakomilsya v
nachale 1895 goda i za kotoroj uhazhival. Stihotvorenie vpervye opublikovano v
knige "Vojna dobraya".
91. Rannee stihotvorenie Krejna. Isklyucheno izdatelyami iz knigi "CHernye
vsadniki" (sm. predislovie). Vpervye opublikovano v knige "Vojna dobraya".
92. V chernovike stoit data napisaniya: 5 dekabrya 1897 goda. Ochevidno,
stihotvorenie - plod userdnogo izucheniya nuvorishej v Hartforde. Pervaya
publikaciya - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
93. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Chap-book" v marte 1896 goda pod zagolovkom
"Verses" ("Strofy"). V "Amerikanskoj antologii" - pod nazvaniem "The Peaks"
("Gory"); v "Spiske-1" - pod nazvaniem "The Prayer of the Mountains", v
"Spiske-2" - pod nazvaniem "The Prayer of the Peaks" (i to, i drugoe -
"Mol'ba gor"). Odin iz chernovikov otpechatan na pishushchej mashinke. Otmetim, chto
Stiven Krejn - odin iz pervyh pisatelej, nachavshih osvaivat' novoe
izobretenie.
94. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v avguste 1895 goda. V "Spiske-1"
- pod zagolovkom "The Death-demon" ("Demon smerti").
95. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v fevrale 1898 goda na chetvertoj
stranice oblozhki pod nazvaniem "Some Things" (chto mozhno perevesti kak
"Nekotorye podrobnosti").
96-97. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
98. Vpervye - tam zhe. V "Amerikanskoj antologii" stihotvorenie
nazyvaetsya "The Violets" ("Fialki").
99. Pod e 99 v knige Dzhozefa Katca povtorno pomeshcheno stihotvorenie 33,
vklyuchennoe Krejnom v oba prizhiznennyh sbornika svoih stihov i zanimayushchee v
knige "Vojna dobraya" imenno eto mesto.
100. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
101. Vpervye - v zhurnale "Philistine" v oktyabre 1895 goda. V "Spiske-1"
i "Spiske-2" - pod nazvaniem "The Lantern Song" ("Pesn' fonarikov").
102. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
103. Napisano, ochevidno, v 1898 godu na Kube - Krejn osveshchal hod
Ispano-amerikanskoj vojny dlya nekotoryh periodicheskih izgnij. Interesno, chto
Krejn neskol'ko raz menyal poryadok strof v stihotvorenii, poka ne ostanovilsya
na okonchatel'nom variante, opublikovannom v knige "Vojna dobraya", chto i bylo
pervoj publikaciej stihotvoreniya.
104-112. Vpervye - v knige "Vojna dobraya".
113. Issledovatel' tvorchestva Krejna Deniel Dzh. Hoffman schitaet, chto
stihotvorenie napisano ne pozdnee iyunya 1898 goda. Rukopis' etogo
stihotvoreniya, kak i dvuh drugih (114, 775), byla najdena v 1928 godu v
Dzheksonvile sredi prochih bumag Krejna. Posle smerti poeta ego vdova, Kora
Krejn, otdala rukopisi odnomu iz ego druzej, obeshchavshemu ih opublikovat', no,
ochevidno, etogo ne sdelavshemu. Obnaruzhil ih Karl Bonenberger, mladshij
bibliotekar' mestnoj biblioteki. Vse tri stihotvoreniya vpervye opublikovany
v zhurnale "Bookman" v aprele 1928 goda pod obshchim zagolovkom "Tri
stihotvoreniya Stivena Krejna".
114. Analiz chernovika, provedennyj Dzhozefom Katcem, pokazal, chto
stihotvorenie napisano osen'yu 1897 goda. Pervaya publikaciya - sm. primechanie
113. V "Spiske-2" nazvanie povtoryaet pervuyu stroku stihotvoreniya.
115. Pervaya publikaciya - sm. primechanie 113.
116. R. V. Stelmen datiruet bloknotnye zapisi, gde vpervye poyavlyaetsya
chernovoj variant nastoyashchego stihotvoreniya, 1893-1894 godami. 22 noyabrya 1931
goda Harvi Tejlor v rubrike "Knizhnoe obozrenie" gazety "N'yu-Jork Geral'd
Tribyun" (gde, kak izvestno, rabotal ran'she sam Krejn) ob®yavlyaet o nahodke
bol'shoj pachki neopublikovannyh rukopisej Krejna: zametok, rasskazov, stihov,
dramaticheskih otryvkov, materialov raboty nad povest'yu "Meggi, ulichnaya
devushka" i romanom "Alyj znak doblesti". Tejlor otpechatal 100 kopij
stihotvoreniya 116 i razoslal ih druz'yam. V fevrale 1934 goda stihotvorenie
napechatano v al'manahe "The Golden Book".
117. Napisano, ochevidno, v nachale 1899 goda. Sluzhit epigrafom k
rasskazu "The Clan of No-name" ("Bezymyannyj rod") iz sbornika voennyh
rasskazov "Rany pod dozhdem", vpervye izdannogo v 1900 godu n'yu-jorkskim
izdatelem Frederikom A. Stoksom.
118. Po mneniyu Korvina Knepa Linsona, druga poeta i avtora knigi "Moj
Stiven Krejn", eto stihotvorenie - odno iz pervyh, napisannyh poetom. Linton
datiruet ego dekabrem 1892 goda. Vpervye opublikovano v sostavlennoj
Denielom Dzh. Hoffmanom knige "Poeziya Stivena Krejna" (N'yu-Jork, 1957); tam
zhe sostoyalas' pervaya publikaciya stihotvorenij 119-135. Motiv obrashcheniya k
pustomu koshel'ku uzhe vstrechalsya v literature; v chastnosti, u Dzheffri CHosera
("CHoser zhaluetsya na zhizn' svoemu koshel'ku").
119. Odno iz stihotvorenij, isklyuchennyh izdatelyami iz sbornika "CHernye
vsadniki". V perepechatannom Krejnom nachisto tekste stihotvoreniya vycherknuty
tri poslednie stroki, kotorye pri pervoj publikacii popali lish' v
kommentarii:
Ved' puty podobayut lish' obez'yanam.
Kak zhe trusliv
Tot, kto ostavlyaet golubku v silkah!
Schitaetsya, chto stihotvorenie otrazhaet istoriyu vzaimootnoshenij Krejna s
Koroj, kotoraya do Krejna byla zamuzhem za drugim chelovekom. Nekotorye
issledovateli predpolagayut dazhe, chto ona vyshla zamuzh za Krejna, tak i ne
oformiv razvod s pervym muzhem. Tema "lyubovnogo treugol'nika" vsegda byla
aktual'noj dlya Stivena Krejna.
120. Odno iz rannih stihotvorenij Krejna, isklyuchennyh izdatelyami iz
knigi "CHernye vsadniki" (sm. predislovie). Poet pereosmyslivaet biblejskij
epizod - iskushenie Adama zanimaet mesto iskusheniya Evy. Po Krejnu, chelovek
sozdan Bogom iznachal'no so vsemi ego slabostyami i vozhdeleniyami; esli zhe
chelovek sumeet izbavit'sya ot svoih "rodimyh pyaten", to stanet vroven' s
Bogom.
121. Po mneniyu Dzhozefa Katca, napisano do 1897 goda.
122. Napisano togda zhe. V "Spiske-2" zagolovok "If you would seek a
friend" ("Esli ty ishchesh' druga"). Dzhozef Katc predpolagaet, chto eto mozhet
byt' stihotvorenie "The Reformer", tekst kotorogo byl poteryan samim Krejnom,
o chem tot soobshchil v pis'me Hemlinu Garlendu v pis'me ot 9 maya 1894 goda
(Garlendu stihotvorenie ochen' ponravilos', i on ochen' sozhalel o ego utrate).
123. Po mneniyu Dzhozefa Katca, napisano do 1897 goda. V "Spiske-2"
zagolovok: "Oh night dismal, night glorious" ("O nochnaya t'ma, nochnoe
velikolepie") .
124. Napisano v aprele-mae 1894 goda kak epigraf k stat'e
"Blagodarnost', chuvstvo dolga", kotoruyu Deniel Dzh. Hoffman opublikoval v
1957 godu v odnotomnike izbrannoj prozy Krejna (bez epigrafa). Dzhozef Katc
schitaet stat'yu slaboj i zasluzhivayushchej vnimaniya tol'ko potomu, chto Krejn
predposlal ej stihotvorenie.
125. Po mneniyu Deniela Dzh. Hoffmana, stihotvorenie napisano v 1895
godu posle poezdki Krejna v Meksiku.
126. Predpolozhitel'no, napisano v marte 1896 goda. Interesno sovpadenie
nastroeniya i dazhe teksta s poslednim iz pisem Krejna k Nelli Kruz (sm.
primechanie 90). Otchayavshis' pokorit' devushku, Krejn pishet ej: "Dorogaya, mne v
poslednee vremya stali tak nravit'sya kladbishcha - bezmyatezhnost'
bezboleznennoj konchiny, beznadezhnost', polnoe otsutstvie strastej, zabvenie
grehov, otreshenie ot proklyatyh nadezhd, chto pyshut zlatym plamenem v nochi i
zastavlyayut cheloveka sbivat'sya s nog, no pri dnevnom svete zhiznennogo opyta
okazyvayutsya hitroumnymi lovushkami, kotorye rasstavlyaet nam voobrazhenie. Esli
i est' v zhizni radost', ya ne mogu ee oshchutit'. Vy sprosite: a budushchee? Dlya
menya budushchee chrevato novymi tyazhkimi ispytaniyami, konfliktami, putami,
kotorye nakladyvaet na nas dolg. |to staroe terpkoe vino, kotoroe bogi
prigotovili dlya smertnyh. Kuvshiny otchayan'ya..."
127. Napisano v konce 1898 ili v nachale 1899 goda, kogda Krejn
vozvratilsya s teatra voennyh dejstvij. Vozmozhno dazhe, napisano v Anglii,
kuda on priehal v fevrale 1899 goda. Neistovstvuyut pri vide ispanca -
stihotvorenie napisano v gody ispano-amerikanskoj vojny, tipichnoj vojny za
obladanie koloniyami, vyzvavshej v oficial'nyh i delovyh krugah Ameriki
vsplesk nevidannogo do teh por shovinizma.
128. Napisano, veroyatno, v konce 1898 goda.
129. V mashinopisnoj kopii stihotvoreniya rukoyu Kory Krejn napisano:
"Rukopis' sego obnaruzhena v sedel'noj sumke Stivena Krejna vo vremya
poslednej vojny s Ispaniej". Sumki obnaruzhil CHarl'z Majklson iz "N'yu-Jork
Dzhornel" - on i poslal ih Kore, pripisav, chto tam imeetsya "rukopis' boevogo
gimna, ochevidno, napisannogo vashim muzhem, kogda on byl na Kube". Majklson
predlozhil stihotvorenie "Pell-Mell Gazett", no ta otkazalas' ego
publikovat', ochevidno, raspoznav gor'kuyu ironiyu i dazhe izdevku, kotorye
prisutstvuyut v tekste. Pripiska Majklsona daet vozmozhnost' datirovat'
stihotvorenie 1898 godom. V knige Deniela Dzh. Hoffmana "Poeziya Stivena
Krejna" - pod nazvaniem "The Battle Hymn" ("Boevoj gimn").
130. Mashinopisnyj ekzemplyar stihotvoreniya otpechatan Krejnom v nachale
1899 goda.
131. CHernovik napechatan Krejnom na mashinke v nachale 1899 goda.
133. Krejn otpechatal stihotvorenie v nachale 1899 goda.
134. Napisano v konce 1899 ili v nachale 1900 goda. Parodiya na
izvestnejshee stihotvorenie amerikanskogo poeta Genri Uodsuorta Longfello
(1807-1882) "Psalom zhizni" (sr. v perevode Ivana Bunina: "Ne tverdi v
strofah unylyh...").
135. Mashinopisnye ekzemplyary (ih dva) otpechatany, po vsej veroyatnosti,
v 1899-1900 godah.
A. I. Kudryavickij
Last-modified: Tue, 20 Jun 2000 05:49:28 GMT