Увы, лишился я всего, Богатый — обеднел я вмиг. Близ двери сердца моего Еще недавно бил родник Твоей любви. Свежа, чиста, Вода сама лилась в уста. Как счастлив был в ту пору я! Играя, в пламени луча Кипела, искрилась струя Животворящего ключа. Но вот беда — ручей иссох, Теперь на дне его лишь мох. Родник любви, он не иссяк, — Но что мне в том, когда навек Вода ушла в подземный мрак И тихо спит, прервав свой бег? Отныне горек мой удел: Я был богат, но обеднел.
74
Перевод А. Ибрагимова
GIPSIES
Yet are they here the same unbroken knot Of human Beings, in the self-same spot! Men, women, children, yea the frame Of the whole spectacle the same! Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, Now deep and red, the colouring of night; That on their Gipsy-faces falls, Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. — Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I Have been a traveller under open sky, Much witnessing of change and cheer, Yet as I left I find them here! The weary Sun betook himself to rest; — Then issued Vesper from the fulgent west, Outshining like a visible God The glorious path in which he trod. And now, ascending, after one dark hour And one night's diminution of her power, Behold the mighty Moon! this way She looks as if at them — but they Regard not her: — oh better wrong and strife (By nature transient) than this torpid life; Life which the very stars reprove As on their silent tasks they move! Yet, witness all that stirs in heaven or earth! In scorn I speak not; — they are what their birth And breeding suffer them to be; Wild outcasts of society!
Мужчины, женщины и дети — весь Сплоченный род, на том же месте, здесь; Подмостки те же — тот же луг, И тех же лицедеев круг; Лишь дерзостней костер ночной горит, Придав глубокий, рдяный колорит Цыганам смуглым, и шатрам, И жалким травяным одрам… Столь много перемен, в теченье дня, Под небосводом тешили меня В скитаниях, — но этот люд На месте прежнем, тут как тут! Вот солнце утомленное зашло, И Веспер, словно некий бог, светло Вознесся, царственно скользя, Где пролегла его стезя; И после краткой тьмы, когда Луна Была развенчана, опять она Свершает властный свой полет, Но табор к ней молитв не шлет… Нет! Лучше распря, лучше боль обид Неправых, чем застывший этот быт, Покой, которому в укор Кружится вечно звездный хор! Хоть в мире все и движется, но я Не опорочу косного житья Цыган, — Судьба взрастила их Изгоями общин людских!
75
Перевод Арк. Штейнберга
From "THE EXCURSION"
Уединение (отрывок из поэмы "ПРОГУЛКА")
"What motive drew, that impulse, I would ask…"
What motive drew, what impulse, I would ask, Through a long course of later ages, drove, The hermit to his cell in forest wide; Or what detained him, till his closing eyes Took their last farewell of the sun and stars, Fast anchored in the desert? — Not alone Dread of the persecuting sword, remorse, Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged And unavengeable, defeated pride, Prosperity subverted, maddening want, Friendship betrayed, affection unretumed, Love with despair, or grief in agony; — Not always from intolerable pangs He fled; but, compassed round by pleasure, sighed For independent happiness; craving peace, The central feeling of all happiness, Not as a refuge from distress or pain, A breathing-time, vacation, or a truce, But for its absolute self; a life of peace, Stability without regret or fear; That hath been, is, and shall be evermore! — Such the reward he sought; and wore out life, There, where on few external things his heart Was set, and those his own; or, if not his, Subsisting under nature's stedfast law. What other yearning was the master tie Of the monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aerial, or in green secluded vale, One after one, collected from afar, An undissolving fellowship? — What but this, The universal instinct of repose, The longing for confirmed tranquillity, Inward and outward; humble, yet sublime: The life where hope and memory are as one; Where earth is quiet and her face unchanged Save by the simplest toil of human hands Or seasons' difference; the immortal Soul Consistent in self-rule; and heaven revealed To meditation in that quietness! —
Я говорю: Какое побужденье, Какой толчок в теченье долгах лет Отшельника манил в лесную чащу К его безмолвной келье? Что его В пустыне укрепляться заставляло, Как бы бросать там навсегда свой якорь, Пока он не смежит свои глаза, В последний раз послав свой взгляд прощальный На солнце и на звезды? — О, не только Страх пред мечом грозящим, угрызенья, Обиды, не поправленные роком, И оскорблений боль неотомщенных, Таких, что отомстить за них нельзя, Растоптанная гордость, перемена В благополучьи, ужас нищеты, Что ум на край безумия приводит, Обманутая дружба, боль влеченья, В другом не пробудившего взаимность, С отчаянием слитая любовь Иль мука, что дошла до агонии; — Он не всегда бежал от нестерпимых, Невыносимых пыток; но нередко, Влекомый безмятежным наслажденьем, Он счастия искал, свободы, мира; Затем что в нашем счастьи — ощущение Центральное есть мир. Ему хотелось видеть постоянство, Что было, есть и будет бесконечно, Себе такой награды он искал. И что другое было твердой скрепой Для братства, что воздвигло монастырь, Высоко на скале, — приют воздушный, — Или в уединения долины, — Что привлекло их всех из дальних мест, Содружеством их сливши неразрывным? — Инстинкт успокоения всемирный, Желанье подтвержденного покоя, Внутри и вне; возвышенность, смиренность; Жизнь, где воспоминанье и надежда Слились в одно и где земля спокойна, Где лик ее меняется едва Работой рук для нужд неприхотливых Иль силою круговращенья года, Где царствует бессмертная Душа, В согласии с своим законом ясным, И небо для услады созерцанья Открыто в невозбранной тишине.
76
Перевод К. Бальмонта
From "POEMS" (1815)
Из сборника "СТИХОТВОРЕНИЯ" (1815)
A NIGHT-PIECE
At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam Startles the pensive traveller while he treads His lonesome path, with unobserving eye Bent earthwards; he looks up-the clouds are split Asunder, — and above his head he sees The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens. There, in a black-blue vault she sails along, Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away, Yet vanish not! — the wind is in the tree, But they are silent; — still they roll along Immeasurably distant; and the vault, Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds, Still deepens its unfathomable depth. At length the Vision closes; and the mind, Not undisturbed by the delight it feels, Which slowly settles into peaceful calm, Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.
Ночное небо Покрыто тонкой тканью облаков; Неявственно, сквозь эту пелену, Просвечивает белый круг луны. Ни дерево, ни башня, ни скала Земли не притеняют в этот час. Но вот внезапно хлынуло сиянье, Притягивая путника, который Задумчиво бредет своей дорогой. И видит он, глаза подъемля к небу, В разрыве облаков — царицу ночи: Во всем ее торжественном величье Она плывет в провале темно-синем В сопровожденье ярких, колких звезд: Стремительно они несутся прочь, Из глаз не исчезая; веет ветер, Но тихо все, ни шороха в листве… Провал средь исполинских облаков Все глубже, все бездонней. Наконец Видение скрывается, и ум, Еще восторга полный, постепенно Объемлемый покоем, размышляет Об этом пышном празднестве природы.
77
Перевод А. Ибрагимова
INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING
THE IMAGINATION IN BOYHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought! And giv'st to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion! not in vain By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul; Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man; But with high objects, with enduring things With life and nature; purifying thus The elements of feeling and of thought, And sanctifying by such discipline Both pain and fear, — until we recognise A grandeur in the beatings of the heart. Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me With stinted kindness. In November days, When vapours rolling down the valleys made A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods At noon; and 'mid the calm of summer nights, When, by the margin of the trembling lake, Beneath the gloomy hills, homeward I went In solitude, such intercourse was mine: Mine was it in the fields both day and night, And by the waters, all the summer long. And in the frosty season, when the sun Was set, and, visible for many a mile, The cottage-windows through the twilight blazed, I heeded not the summons: happy time It was indeed for all of us; for me It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud The village-clock tolled six — I wheeled about, Proud and exulting like an untired horse That cares not for his home. – All shod with steel We hissed along the polished ice, in games Confederate, imitative of the chase And woodland pleasures, — the resounding horn, The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare. So through the darkness and the cold we flew, And not a voice was idle: with the din Smitten, the precipices rang aloud; The leafless trees and every icy crag Tinkled like iron; while far-distant hills Into the tumult sent an alien sound Of melancholy, not unnoticed while the stars, Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west The orange sky of evening died away. Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sportively Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, To cut across the reflex of a star; Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes, When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still The rapid line of motion, then at once Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs Wheeled by me — even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round! Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.
ВЛИЯНИЕ ПРИРОДЫ НА РАЗВИТИЕ ВООБРАЖЕНИЯ В ДЕТСТВЕ И РАННЕЙ ЮНОСТИ [78]
О ты, великий Дух предвечной мысли, Единая душа и мудрость мира, Ты образам даешь дыханье жизни И вечное движенье. Нет, недаром, Когда встречал еще я утро жизни, И днем и в свете звезд в душе моей Все чувства, в ней живущие, сплетались Не с суетным стремлением к тому, Что создано рукою человека, А с вечными порывами к Природе И к жизни. Очищалась мысль моя Священной скорбью и священным страхом, И я учился постигать величье Биенья человеческого сердца. Мне этих откровений благодать Уделена была рукою щедрой, Я ощущал присутствие ее И в ноябре, когда туман тяжелый Окутывал унылую долину Покровом мрачным; и в полдневный час В глуши лесов, и тихой летней ночью, Когда один домой я возвращался Вдоль озера среди холмов угрюмых; Я чувствовал ее и днем в полях, И в час ночной у озера, и летом, И в зимний день, когда садилось солнце И далеко блестели окна хижин Сквозь сумерки морозные, когда Меня домой и не дозваться было. Счастливая для всех для нас пора! Как наслаждался я тогда! Бывало, На колокольне сельской ясно, звонко Бьет шесть часов, — а мне и дела нет, И я, как дикий конь, гордясь свободой, Бегу от дому прочь. Одев коньки, Мы шумною толпой несемся по льду, Изображая целую охоту, И звук рогов, и лай собачьей своры, И загнанного зайца. Дружным хором Звучат в морозном мраке голоса, Вдоль по обрывам отдаются гулко, Звенящие им вторят отголоски Оледеневших скал, деревьев голых, И лишь с холмов далеких чуждым звуком Врывается в наш общий гам и шум Печальный отклик эха. Мы не слышим Его до той поры, пока над нами Не вспыхнут звезды и закат багряный Не скроется на западе совсем. Но часто я из этой суматохи Вдруг ускользал в залив уединенный И, оглядевшись, долго с любопытством Следил, как вдаль по ледяной равнине Мелькает яркий отблеск звезд далеких Среди ватаги, мчащейся к нему. Или когда наперегонки с ветром Летели мы, и нам неслись навстречу Окутанные мраком берега, — Откинувшись на каблуки, внезапно Я круто останавливал свой бег И озирался; скалы продолжали Бежать навстречу, будто для меня Вдруг видимым земли вращенье стало, И я глядел им вслед, как постепенно Они свое движенье замедляли И снова все недвижным становилось, Как в летний день безветренное море.
78
Перевод М. Фроловского
LAODAMIA
"With sacrifice before the rising mom Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired; And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required: Celestial pity I again implore; — Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!" So speaking, and by fervent love endowed With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud, Her countenance brightens-and her eye expands; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows; And she expects the issue in repose. О terror! what hath she perceived? — О joy! What doth she look on? — whom doth she behold? Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? His vital presence? his corporeal mould? It is — if sense deceive her not — 'tis He! And a God leads him, winged Mercury! Mild Hermes spake — and touched her with his wand That calms all fear; "Such grace hath crowned thy prayer, Laodamia! that at Jove's command Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air: He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; Accept the gift, behold him face to face!" Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp; Again that consummation she essayed; But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp As often as that eager grasp was made. The Phantom parts — but parts to re-unite, And re-assume his place before her sight. "Protesilaus, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace, — yonder is thy throne; Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice. Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon; and blest a sad abode." "Great Jove, Laodamia! doth not leave His gifts imperfect: — Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive; But in reward of thy fidelity. And something also did my worth obtain; For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain. "Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand Should die; but me the threat could not withhold: A generous cause a victim did demand; And forth I leapt upon the sandy plain; A self-devoted chief-by Hector slain." "Supreme of Heroes-bravest, noblest, best! Thy matchless courage I bewail no more, Which then, when tens of thousands were deprest By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal shore; Thou found'st — and I forgive thee — here thou art — A nobler counsellor than my poor heart. "But thou, though capable of sternest deed, Wert kind as resolute, and good as brave; And he, whose power restores thee, hath decreed Thou should'st elude the malice of the grave: Redundant are thy locks, thy lips as fair As when their breath enriched Thessalian air. "No Spectre greets me, — no vain Shadow this; Come, blooming Hero, place thee by my side! Give, on this well-known couch, one nuptial kiss To me, this day, a second time thy bride!" Jove frowned in heaven: the conscious Parcae threw Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. "This visage tells thee that my doom is past: Nor should the change be mourned, even if the joys Of sense were able to return as fast And surely as they vanish. Earth destroys Those raptures duly-Erebus disdains: Calm pleasures there abide-majestic pains. "Be taught, О faithful Consort, to control Rebellious passion: for the Gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul; A fervent, not ungovernable, love. Thy transports moderate; and meekly mourn When I depart, for brief is my sojourn — " "Ah, wherefore? — Did not Hercules by force Wrest from the guardian Monster of the tomb Alcestis, a reanimated corse, Given back to dwell on earth in vernal bloom? Medea's spells dispersed the weight of years, And Aeson stood a youth 'mid youthful peers. "The Gods to us are merciful — and they Yet further may relent: for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. "But if thou goest, I follow — " "Peace!" he said, — She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered; The ghastly colour from his lips had fled; In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, Brought from a pensive though a happy place. He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away — no strife to heal — The past unsighed for, and the future sure; Spake of heroic arts in graver mood Revived, with finer harmony pursued; Of all that is most beauteous — imaged there In happier beauty; more pellucid streams, An ampler ether, a diviner air, And fields invested with purpureal gleams; Climes which the sun, who sheds the brightest day Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey. Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned That privilege by virtue. — "Ill," said he, "The end of man's existence I discerned, Who from ignoble games and revelry Could draw, when we had parted, vain delight, While tears were thy best pastime, day and night; "And while my youthful peers before my eyes (Each hero following his peculiar bent) Prepared themselves for glorious enterprise By martial sports, — or, seated in the tent, Chieftains andjcings in council were detained; What time the fleet at Aulis lay enchained. "The wished-for wind was given: — I then revolved The oracle, upon the silent sea; And, if no worthier led the way, resolved That, of a thousand vessels, mine should be The foremost prow in pressing to the strand, — Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand. "Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang When of thy loss I thought, beloved Wife! On thee too fondly did my memory hang, And on the joys we shared in mortal life, — The paths which we had trod — these fountains, flowers My new-planned cities, and unfinished towers. "But should suspense permit the Foe to cry, 'Behold they tremble! — haughty their array, Yet of their number no one dares to die?' In soul I swept the indignity away: Old frailties then recurred: — but lofty thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought. "And Thou, though strong in love, art all too weak In reason, in self-government too slow; I counsel thee by fortitude to seek Our blest re-union in the shades below. The invisible world with thee hath sympathised; Be thy affections raised and solemnised. "Learn, by a mortal yearning, to ascend — Seeking a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end; For this the passion to excess was driven — That self might be annulled: her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." — Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears! Round the dear Shade she would have clung — 'tis vain: The hours are past — too brief had they been years; And him no mortal effort can detain: Swift, toward the realms that know not earthly day, He through the portal takes his silent way, And oh the palace-floor a lifeless corse She lay. Thus, all in vain exhorted and reproved, She perished; and, as for a wilful crime, By the just Gods whom no weak pity moved, Was doomed to wear out her appointed time, Apart from happy Ghosts, that gather flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers. — Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone, As fondly he believes. – Upon the side Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained) A knot of spiry trees for ages grew From out the tomb of him for whom she died; And ever, when such stature they had gained That Ilium's walls were subject to their view, The trees' tall summits withered at the sight; A constant interchange of growth and blight!