Шрифт:
Уильям Блейк
Песни Невинности и Опыта
Песни Невинности
и Опыта
Показывающие два противоположных состояния
души человеческой
* SONGS OF INNOCENCE *
* ПЕСНИ НЕВИННОСТИ *
INTRODUCTION
Piping down the valleys wild Piping songs of pleasant glee On a cloud I saw a child. And he laughing said to me.
Pipe a song about a Lamb: So I piped with merry chear, Piper pipe that song again So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe Sing thy songs of happy chear, So I sung the same again While he wept with joy to hear.
Piper sit thee down and write In a book that all may read So he vanish'd from my sight, And I pluck'd a hollow reed.
And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs, Every child may joy to hear
ВСТУПЛЕНИЕ
Шел
"Песню мне сыграй про агнца!" Я сыграл - развеселил! "Ты сыграй-ка это снова!" Я сыграл - он слезы лил.
"Дудочку оставь и спой мне То, что прежде ты играл". И пока я пел ту песню, Он смеялся и рыдал.
"Выйдет книга неплохая Песни эти пусть прочтут", Молвил мальчик, исчезая... Сразу взялся я за труд:
Для письма сломил тростинку, Бросил в воду горсть земли Записал все песни детям, Чтобы слушать их могли!
THE SHEPHERD
How sweet is the Shepherds sweet lot, From the morn to the evening he strays: He shall follow his sheep all the day And his tongue sliall be filled with praise.
For he hears the lambs innocent call. And he hears the ewes tender reply. He is watchful while they are in peace, For they know when their Shepherd is nigh
ПАСТУХ
Доля пастыря так хороши! На лугу он встречает расцвет, До заката овечек пасет Доли лучше на свете и нет!
Ибо слышит он агнцев своих, Бережет их все ночи и дни; Овцы паствою мирно идут -Ибо пастыря знают они.
THE ECCHOING GREEN
The Sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring, To welcome the Spring. The sky-lark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around, To the bells chearful sound, While our sports shall he seen On the Ecchoing Green.
Old John with white hair Does laugh away care, Sitting under the oak, Among the old folk. They laugh at our play, And soon they all say, Such such were the joys, When we all girls boys, In our youth time were seen, On the Ecchoing Green.
Till the little ones weary No more can be merry The sun does descend, And our sports have an end: Round the laps of their mothers, Many sisters and brothers, Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest: And sport no more seen, On the darkening Green.
ЗВОНКИЙ ЛУГ
Чуть солнышко встало И все заблистало! Чиста и ясна, Приходит
Под дубом зеленым Со стареньким Джоном Мамаши сидят На игры глядят. И слышно средь смеха И звонкого эха: "Мы тоже детьми Резвились до тьмы, Танцуя в кругу На Звонком Лугу!"
Но в никнущем свете Усталые дети Глядят на закат, И тени лежат... И сестры, и братья, Цепляясь эа платье Мамаши родной, Идут на покой. И тихо в кругу На темном Лугу.
THE LAMB
Little Lamb who made thee Dost thou know who made thee Gave thee life bid thee feed, By the stream o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing wooly bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice: Little Lamb who made thee Dost thou know who made thee
Little Ldmb I'll tell thee, Little Lamb I'll tell thee; He is called by thy name, For he calls himself a Lamb: He is meek he is mild, He became a little child: I a child thou a lamb, We are called by his name. Little Lamb God bless thee, Little Lamb God bless thee.
АГНЕЦ
Милый Агнец, расскажи, Кем ты создан, расскажи? Из каких ты вышел рук? Кто тебя привел на луг? Кто пушок придумал твой, Чистый, мягкий, золотой? Кто тебе твой голос дал, Чтоб так нежно он звучал? Милый Агнец, расскажи, Кем ты создан, расскажи?
Милый Агнец, я скажу, Милый Агнец, я скажу! Имя Агнца он избрал, Ибо так себя назвал. Как дитя, он тих и мил Он пришел и всех простил. Я дитя, и Агнец ты И у нас его черты! Милый Агнец, Бог с тобой! Милый Агнец, Бог с тобой!
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild, And I am black, but O! my soul is white, White as an angel is the English child: But I am black as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree And sitting down before the heat of day, She took me on her lap and kissed me, And pointing to the east began to say.
Look on the rising sun: there God does live And gives his light, and gives his heat away. And flowers and trees and beasts and men recieve Comfort in morning joy in the noon day.
And we are put on earth a little space, That we may learn to bear the beams of love. And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice, Saying: come out from the grove my love care, And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.
Thus did my mother say and kissed me. And thus I say to little English boy. When I from black and he from white cloud free, And round the tent of God like lambs we joy: