Текст книги "Лирика"

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По Эдгар Аллан
Лирика

Эдгар Алан По

Лирика

POEMS

СТИХОТВОРЕНИЯ

1. SONG

I saw thee on thy bridal day

When a burning blush came o'er thee,

Though happiness around thee lay,

The world a'l love before thee:

And in thine eye a kindling light

(Whatever it might be)

Was all on Earth my aching sight

Of Loveliness could see.

That blush, perhaps, was maiden shame

As such it well may pass

Though its glow hath raised a fiercer flame

In the breast of him, alas!

Who saw thee on that bridal day,

When that deep blush would come o'er thee,

Though happiness around thee lay,

The world all love before thee.

(1827-1845)

1. ПЕСНЯ

Я помню: ты в день брачный твой,

Как от стыда зарделась вдруг,

Хоть счастье было пред тобой,

И, весь любовь, мир цвел вокруг.

Лучистый блеск в твоих очах

(Что ни таила ты)

Был – все, что на земле, в мечтах,

Есть выше красоты!

Быть может, девичьим стыдом

Румянец был – как знать!

Но пламенем он вспыхнул в том,

Кто мог его понять,

Кто знал тебя в день брачный твой,

Когда могла ты вспыхнуть вдруг,

Хоть счастье было пред тобой,

И, весь любовь, мир цвел вокруг.

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

2. DREAMS

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!

My spirit not awak'ning till the beam

Of an Eternity should bring the morrow:

Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,

'Twere better than the dull reality

Of waking life to him whose heart shall be,

And hath been ever, on the chilly earth,

A chaos of deep passion from his birth!

But should it be – that dream eternally

Continuing – as dreams have been to me

In my young boyhood – should it thus be given,

'Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven!

For I have revell'd, when the sun was bright

In the summer sky; in dreamy fields of light,

And left unheedingly my very heart

In climes of mine imagining – apart

From mine own home, with beings that have been

Of mine own thought – what more could I have seen?

'Twas once and _only_ once and the wild hour

From my remembrance shall not pass – some power

Or spell had bound me – 'twas the chilly wind

Came o'er me in the night and left behind

Its image on my spirit, or the moon

Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon

Too coldly – or the stars – howe'er it was

That dream was as that night wind – let it pass.

I have been happy – tho' but in a dream.

I have been happy – and I love the theme

Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life

As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife

Of semblance with reality which brings

To the delirious eye more lovely things

Of Paradise and Love – and all our own!

Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.

(1827-1828)

2. МЕЧТЫ

О! будь вся юность – лишь единый сон,

Так, чтобы дух проснулся, пробужден

Лучами Вечности, как мы – денницы,

Будь этот сон – страданье без границы,

Его все ж предпочел бы, чем коснеть

В реальности, тот, кто привык терпеть,

Чье сердце было и пребудет страстно

Мук хаосом здесь, на земле прекрасной!

Но был ли б этот, в долгой темноте

Прошедший, сон похож на грезы те,

Какими в детстве был я счастлив? – (Ибо

Небес прекрасней ждать сны не могли бы!)

При летнем солнце я тонул в мечтах

О Красоте и о живых лучах;

Я сердце отдал, с жаром неустанным,

Моей фантазии далеким странам

И существам, что сотворил я сам...

Что, большее, могло предстать мечтам?

То было раз, – лишь раз, – но из сознанья

Не выйдет этот миг! – Очарованье

Иль чья-то власть гнели меня; льдяной

Во тьме дышал ли ветер надо мной,

В моем уме свой облик оставляя?

Луна ль звала, над сном моим пылая,

Холодной слишком? – звезды ль? – только тот,

Миг был как ветер ночи (да пройдет!),

Я счастлив был – пусть в грезах сна пустого!

Я счастлив был – в мечтах! – Люблю я слово

"Мечта"! В ее стоцветной ворожбе,

Как в мутной, зыбкой, призрачной борьбе

С реальностью видений, той, что вещий

Бред создает, – прекраснейшие вещи

Любви и рая есть, что мне сродни,

Но чем не дарят юношества дни!

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

3. A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less _gone?_

_All_ that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep – while I weep!

О God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

О God! can I not save

_One from_ the pitiless wave?

Is _all_ that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

(1827-1849)

3. СОН ВО СНЕ

Пусть останется с тобой

Поцелуй прощальный мой!

От тебя я ухожу,

И тебе теперь скажу:

Не ошиблась ты в одном,

Жизнь моя была лишь сном.

Но мечта, что сном жила,

Днем ли, ночью ли ушла,

Как виденье ли, как свет,

Чт_о_ мне в том, – ее уж _нет_.

_Все_, что зрится, мнится мне,

Все есть только сон во сне.

Я стою на берегу,

Бурю взором стерегу.

И держу в руках своих

Горсть песчинок золотых.

Как они ласкают взгляд!

Как их мало! Как скользят

Все – меж пальцев – вниз, к волне,

К глубине – на горе мне!

Как их бег мне задержать,

Как сильнее руки сжать?

Сохранится ль хоть одна,

Или все возьмет волна?

Или то, что зримо мне,

Все есть только сон во сне?

(1901)

Перевод К. Бальмонта

4. A DREAM

In visions of the dark night

I have dreamed of joy departed

But a waking dream of life and light

Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day

To him whose eyes are cast

On things around him with a ray

Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream – that holy dream,

While all the world were chiding,

Hath cheered me as a lovely beam

A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro' storm and night,

So trembled from afar

What could there be more purely bright

In Truth's day-star?

(1827-1845)

4. СОН

В виденьях темноты ночной

Мне снились радости, что были;

Но грезы жизни, сон денной,

Мне сжали сердце – и разбили.

О, почему не правда дня

Сны ночи тем, чей взгляд

В лучах небесного огня

Былое видеть рад!

О сон святой! – о сон святой!

Шум просыпался в мире тесном,

Но в жизнь я шел, ведом тобой,

Как некий дух лучом чудесным.

Пусть этот луч меж туч, сквозь муть,

Трепещет иногда,

Что ярче озарит нам путь,

Чем Истины звезда!

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

5. THE HAPPIEST DAY

The happiest day – the happiest hour

My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,

The highest hope of pride, and power,

I feel hath flown.

Of power! said I? Yes! such I ween

But they have vanish'd long alas!

The visions of my youth have been

But let them pass.

And, pride, what have I now with thee?

Another brow may ev'n inherit

The venom thou hast pour'd on me

Be still my spirit.

The happiest day – the happiest hour

Mine eyes shall see – have ever seen

The brightest glance of pride and power

I feel – have been:

But were that hope of pride and power

Now offer'd, with the pain

Ev'n then I felt – that brightest hour

I would not live again:

For on its wing was dark alloy

And as it flutter'd – fell

An essence – powerful to destroy

A soul that knew it well.

(1827)

5. СЧАСТЛИВЕЙШИЙ ДЕНЬ

Счастливейший день! – счастливейший час!

Что сердце усталое знало!

Вы, гордые грезы! надежды на власть!

Все, все миновало.

Надежды на власть! – Да! я помню: об том

(Мне память былое приводит)

Мечтал я когда-то во сне молодом...

Но пусть их проходят!

И гордые грезы? – Теперь мне – что в них!

Пусть яд их был мною усвоен,

Но пусть он палит ныне темя других.

Мой дух! будь спокоен.

Счастливейший день! – счастливейший час!

Что сердце усталое знало,

Вы, гордые взгляды! вы, взгляды на власть!

Все, все миновало.

Но если бы снова и взяли вы верх,

Но с бредом мученья былого,

Вас, миги надежд, я отверг бы, отверг,

Чтоб не мучиться снова!

Летите вы с пеньем, но гибель и страх

Змеится, как отблеск, по перьям,

И каплет с них яд, сожигающий в прах

Того, кто вас принял с доверьем.

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

6. THE LAKE – TO

In spring of youth it was my lot

To haunt of the wide world a spot

The which I could not love the less

So lovely was the loneliness

Of a wild lake, with black rock bound,

And the tall pines that towered around.

But when the Night had thrown her pall

Upon that spot, as upon all,

And the mystic wind went by

Murmuring in melody

Then – ah then I would awake

To the terror of the lone lake.

Yet that terror was not fright,

But a tremulous delight

A feeling not the jewelled mine

Could teach or bribe me to define

Nor Love – although the Love were thine.

Death was in that poisonous wave,

And in its gulf a fitting grave

For him who thence could solace bring

To his lone imagining

Whose solitary soul could make

An Eden of that dim lake.

(1827-1845)

6. ОЗЕРО

К ***

Меня, на утре жизни, влек

В просторном мире уголок,

Что я любил, любил до дна!

Была прекрасна тишина

Угрюмых вод и черных скал,

Что бор торжественный обстал.

Когда же Ночь, царица снов,

На все бросала свой покров

И ветр таинственный в тени

Роптал мелодию: усни!

Я пробуждался вдруг мечтой

Для ужаса страны пустой.

Но этот ужас не был страх,

Был трепетный восторг в мечтах:

Не выразить его полней

За пышный блеск Голконды всей,

За дар Любви – хотя б твоей!

Но Смерть скрывалась там, в волнах

Тлетворных, был в них саркофаг

Для всех, кто стал искать бы там

Покоя одиноким снам,

Кто скорбной грезой – мрачный край

Преобразил бы в светлый рай.

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

7. SONNET – TO SCIENCE

Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!

Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.

Why preyest thou thus upon the poet's heart,

Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?

How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,

Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering

To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,

Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?

Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?

And driven the Hamadryad from the wood

To seek a shelter in some happier star?

Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,

The Elfin from the green grass, and from me

The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?

(1829-1843)

7. СОНЕТ К НАУКЕ

Наука! ты – дитя Седых Времен!

Меняя все вниманьем глаз прозрачных,

Зачем тревожишь ты поэта сон,

О коршун! крылья чьи – взмах истин мрачных!

Тебя любить? и мудрой счесть тебя?

Зачем же ты мертвишь его усилья,

Когда, алмазы неба возлюбя,

Он мчится ввысь, раскинув смело крылья!

Дианы коней кто остановил?

Кто из леса изгнал Гамадриаду,

Услав искать приюта меж светил?

Кто выхватил из лона вод Наяду?

Из веток Эльфа? Кто бред летних грез,

Меж тамарисов, от меня унес?

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

8. AL AARAAF

PART I

O! nothing earthly save the ray

(Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye,

As in those gardens where the day

Springs from the gems of Circassy

O! nothing earthly save the thrill

Of melody in woodland rill

Or (music of the passion-hearted)

Joy's voice so peacefully departed

That like the murmur in the shell,

Its echo dwelleth and will dwell

Oh, nothing of the dross of ours

Yet all the beauty – all the flowers

That list our Love, and deck our bowers

Adorn yon world afar, afar

The wandering star.

'Twas a sweet time for Nesace – for there

Her world lay lolling on the golden air,

Near four bright suns – a temporary rest

An oasis in desert of the blest.

Away – away – 'mid seas of rays that roll

Empyrean splendor o'er th' unchained soul

The soul that scarce (the billows are so dense)

Can struggle to its destin'd eminence

To distant spheres, from time to time, she rode,

And late to ours, the favour'd one of God

But, now, the ruler of an anchor'd realm,

She throws aside the sceptre – leaves the helm,

And, amid incense and high spiritual hymns,

Laves in quadruple light her angel limbs.

Now happiest, loveliest in you lovely Earth,

Whence sprang the "Idea of Beauty" into birth,

(Falling in wreaths thro' many a startled star,

Like woman's hair 'mid pearls, until, afar,

It lit on hills Achaian, and there dwelt)

She look'd into Infinity – and knelt.

Rich clouds, for canopies, about her curled

Fit emblems of the model of her world

Seen but in beauty – not impeding sight

Of other beauty glittering thro' the light

A wreath that twined each starry form around,

And all the opal'd air in color bound.

All hurriedly she knelt upon a bed

Of flowers: of lilies such as rear'd the head

On the fair Capo Deucato, and sprang

So eagerly around about to hang

Upon the flying footsteps of – deep pride

Of her who lov'd a mortal – and so died.

The Sephalica, budding with young bees,

Uprear'd its purple stem around her knees:

And gemmy flower, of Trebizond misnam'd

Inmate of highest stars, where erst it sham'd

All other loveliness: its honied dew

(The fabled nectar that the heathen knew)

Deliriously sweet, was dropp'd from Heaven,

And fell on gardens of the unforgiven

In Trebizond – and on a sunny flower

So like its own above that, to this hour,

It still remaineth, torturing the bee

With madness, and unwonted reverie:

In Heaven, and all its environs, the leaf

And blossom of the fairy plant, in grief

Disconsolate linger – grief that hangs her head,

Repenting follies that full long have fled,

Heaving her white breast to the balmy air,

Like guilty beauty, chasten'd, and more fair:

Nyctanthes too, as sacred as the light

She fears to perfume, perfuming the night:

And Clytia pondering between many a sun,

While pettish tears adown her petals run:

And that aspiring flower that sprang on Earth

And died, ere scarce exalted into birth,

Bursting its odorous heart in spirit to wing

Its way to Heaven, from garden of a king:

And Valisnerian lotus thither flown

From struggling with the waters of the Rhone:

And thy most lovely purple perfume, Zante!

Isola d'oro! – Fior di Levante!

And the Nelumbo bud that floats for ever

With Indian Cupid down the holy river

Fair flowers, and fairy! to whose care is given

To bear the Goddess' song, in odors, up to Heaven:

"Spirit! that tlwellest where,

In the deep sky,

The terrible and fair,

In beauty vie!

Beyond the line of blue

The boundary of the star

Which turneth at the view

Of thy barrier and thy bar

Of the barrier overgone

By the comets who were cast

From their pride, and from their throne

To be drudges till the last

To be carriers of fire

(The red fire of their heart)

With speed that may not tire

And with pain that shall not part

Who livest – _that_ we know

In Eternity – we feel

But the shadow of whose brow

What spirit shall reveal?

Tho' the beings whom thy Nesace,

Thy messenger hath known

Have dream'd for thy Infinity

A model of their own

Thy will is done. Oh, God!

The star hath ridden high

Thro' many a tempest, but she rode

Beneath thy burning eye;

And here, in thought, to thee

In thought that can alone

Ascend thy empire and so be

A partner of thy throne

By winged Fantasy,

My embassy is given,

Till secrecy shall knowledge be

In the environs of Heaven."

She ceas'd – and buried then her burning cheek

Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek

A shelter from the fervour of His eye;

For the stars trembled at the Deity.

She stirr'd not – breath'd not – for a voice was there

How solemnly pervading the calm air!

A sound of silence on the startled ear

Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere."

Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call

"Silence" – which is the merest word of all.

All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things

Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings

But ah! not so when, thus, in realms on high

The eternal voice of God is passing by,

And the red winds are withering in the sky!

"What tho' in worlds which sightless cycles run,

Link'd to a little system, and one sun

Where all my love is folly and the crowd

Still think my terrors but the thunder cloud,

The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath

(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path?)

What tho' in worlds which own a single sun

The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run,

Yet thine is my resplendency, so given

To bear my secrets thro' the upper Heaven.

Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly,

With all thy train, athwart the moony sky

Apart – like fire-flies in Sicilian night,

And wing to other worlds another light!

Divulge the secrets of thy embassy

To the proud orbs that twinkle – and so be

To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban

Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"

Up rose the maiden in the yellow night,

The single-mooned eve! – on Earth we plight

Our faith to one love – and one moon adore

The birth-place of young Beauty had no more.

As sprang that yellow star from downy hours

Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers,

And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain

Her way – but left not yet her Therasaean reign.

PART II

High on a mountain of enamell'd head

Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed

Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,

Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees,

With many a mutter'd "hope to be forgiven"

What time the moon is quadrated in Heaven

Of rosy head, that towering far away

Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray

Of sunken suns at eve – at noon of night,

While the moon danc'd with the fair stranger light

Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile

Of gorgeous columns on th' unburthen'd air,

Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile

Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,

And nursled the young mountain in its lair.

Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall

Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall

Of their own dissolution, while they die

Adorning then the dwellings of the sky.

A dome, by linked light from Heaven let down,

Sat gently on these columns as a crown

A window of one circular diamond, there,

Look'd out above into the purple air,

And rays from God shot down that meteor chain

And hallow'd all the beauty twice again,

Save when, between th' Empyrean and that ring,

Some eager spirit flapp'd his dusky wing.

But on the pillars Seraph eyes have seen

The dimness of this world: that greyish green

That Nature loves the best for Beauty's grave

Lurk'd in each cornice, round each architrave

And every sculptur'd cherub thereabout

That from his marble dwelling peered out,

Seem'd earthly in the shadow of his niche

Achaian statues in a world so rich?

Friezes from Tadmor and Persepolis

From Balbec, and the stilly, clear abyss

Of beautiful Gomorrah! O, the wave

Is now upon thee – but too late to save!

Sound loves to revel in a summer night:

Witness the murmur of the grey twilight

That stole upon the ear, in Eyraco,

Of many a wild star-gazer long ago

That stealeth ever on the ear of him

Who, musing, gazeth on the distance dim.

And sees the darkness coming as a cloud

Is not its form – its voice – most palpable and loud?

But what is this? – it cometh – and it brings

A music with it – 'tis the rush of wings

A pause – and then a sweeping, falling strain

And Nesace is in her halls again.

From the wild energy of wanton haste

Her cheeks were flushing, and her lips apart;

And zone that clung around her gentle waist

Had burst beneath the heaving of her heart.

Within the centre of that hall to breathe

She paus'd and panted, Zanthe! all beneath,

The fairy light that kiss'd her golden hair

And long'd to rest, yet could but sparkle there!

Young flowers were whispering in melody

To happy flowers that night – and tree to tree;

Fountains were gushing music as they fell

In many a star-lit grove, or moon-lit dell;

Yet silence came upon material things

Fair flowers, bright waterfalls and angel wings

And sound alone that from the spirit sprang

Bore burthen to the charm the maiden sang:

"'Neath blue-bell or streamer

Or tufted wild spray

That keeps, from the dreamer,

The moonbeam away

Bright beings! that ponder,

With half closing eyes,

On the stars which your wonder

Hath drawn from the skies,

Till they glance thro' the shade, and

Come down to your brow

Like – eyes of the maiden

Who calls on you now

Arise! from your dreaming

In violet bowers,

To duty beseeming

These star-litten hours

And shake from your tresses

Encumber'd with dew

The breath of those kisses

That cumber them too

(O! how, without you. Love!

Could angels be blest?)

Those kisses of true love

That lull'd ye to rest!

Up! – shake from your wing

Each hindering thing:

The dew of the night

It would weight down your flight;

And true love caresses

O! leave them apart!

They are light on the tresses,

But lead on the heart.

Ligeia! Ligeia!

My beautiful one!

Whose harshest idea

Will to melody run,

O! is it thy will

On the breezes to toss?

Or, capriciously still,

Like the lone Albatross,

Incumbent on night

(As she on the air)

To keep watch with delight

On the harmony there?

Ligeia! wherever

Thy image may be,

No magic shall sever

Thy music from thee.

Thou hast bound many eyes

In a dreamy sleep

But the strains still arise

Which _thy_ vigilance keep

The sound of the rain

Which leaps down to the flower,

And dances again

In the rhythm of the shower

The murmur that springs

From the growing of grass

Are the music of things

But are modell'd, alas!

Away, then my dearest,

O! hie thee away

To springs that lie clearest

Beneath the moon-ray

To lone lake that smiles,

In its dream of deep rest,

At the many star-isles

That enjewel its breast

Where wild flowers, creeping,

Have mingled their shade,

On its margin is sleeping

Full many a maid

Some have left the cool glade, and

Have slept with the bee

Arouse them my maiden,

On moorland and lea

Go! breathe on their slumber,

All softly in ear,

The musical number

They slumber'd to hear

For what can awaken

An angel so soon

Whose sleep hath been taken

Beneath the cold moon,

As the spell which no clumber

Of witchery may test,

The rhythmical number

Which lull'd him to rest?"

Spirits in wing, and angels to the view,

A thousand seraphs burst th' Empyrean thro',

Young dreams still hovering on their drowsy flight

Seraphs in all but "Knowledge", the keen light

That fell, refracted, thro' thy bounds, afar

O Death! from eye of God upon that star:

Sweet was that error – sweeter still that death

Sweet was that error – ev'n with us the breath

Of Science dims the mirror of our joy

To them 'twere the Simoon, and would destroy

For what (to them) availeth it to know

That Truth is Falsehood – or that Bliss is Woe?

Sweet was their death – with them to die was rife

With the last ecstasy of satiate life

Beyond that death no immortality

But sleep that pondereth and is not "to be"

And there – oh! may my weary spirit dwell

Apart from Heaven's Eternity – and yet how far

from Hell!

What guilty spirit, in what shrubbery dim,

Heard not the stirring summons of that hymn?

But two: they fell: for Heaven no grace imparts

To those who hear not for their beating hearts.

A maiden-angel and her seraph-lover

O! where (and ye may seek the wide skies over)

Was Love, the blind, near sober Duty known?

Unguided Love hath fallen – 'mid "tears of perfect

moan."

He was a goodly spirit – he who fell:

A wanderer by moss-y-mantled well

A gazer on the lights that shine above

A dreamer in the moonbeam by his love:

What wonder? for each star is eye-like there,

And looks so sweetly down on Beauty's hair

And they, and ev'ry mossy spring were holy

To his love-haunted heart and melancholy.

The night had found (to him a night of wo)

Upon a mountain crag, young Angelo

Beetling it bends athwart the solemn sky,

And scowls on starry worlds that down beneath it lie.

Here sate he with his love – his dark eye bent

With eagle gaze along the firmament:

Now turn'd it upon her – but ever then

It trembled to the orb of EARTH again.

"lanthe, dearest, see! how dim that ray!

How lovely 'tis to look so far away!

She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve

I left her gorgeous halls – nor mourn'd to leave.

That ese – that eve – I should remember well

The sun-ray dropp'd, in Lemnos, with a spell

On th' Arabesque carving of a gilded hall

Wherein I sate, and on the draperied wall

And on my eye-lids – О the heavy light!

How drowsily it weigh'd them into night!

On flowers, before, and mist, and love they ran

With Persian Saadi in his Gulistan:

But О that light! – I slumber'd – Death, the while,

Stole o'er my senses in that lovely isle

So softly that no single silken hair

Awoke that slept – or knew that he was there.

The last spot of Earth's orb I trod upon

Was a proud temple call'd the Parthenon

More beauty clung around her column'd wall

Than ev'n thy glowing bosom beats withal,

And when old Time my wing did disenthral

Thence sprang I – as the eagle from his tower,

And years I left behind me in an hour.

What time upon her airy bounds I hung

One half the garden of her globe was flung

Unrolling as a chart unto my view

Tenantless cities of the desert too!

lanthe, beauty crowded on me then,

And half I wish'd to be again of men."

"My Angelo! and why of them to be?

A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee

And greener fields than in yon world above,

And woman's loveliness – and passionate love."

"But, list, Ianthe! when the air so soft

Fail'd, as my pennon'd spirit leapt aloft,

Perhaps my brain grew dizzy – but the world

I left so late was into chaos huri'd

Sprang from her station, on the winds apart,

And roll'd, a flame, the fiery Heaven athwart.

Methought, my sweet one, then I ceased to soar

And fell – not swiftly as I rose before,

But with a downward, tremulous motion thro'

Light, brazen rays, this golden star unto!

Nor long the measure of my falling hours,

For nearest of all stars was thine to ours

Dread star! that came, amid a night of mirth,

A red Daedalion on the timid Earth.

"We came – and to thy Earth – but not to us

Be given our lady's bidding to discuss:

We came, my love; around, above, below,

Gay fire-fly of the night we come and go,

Nor ask a reason save the angel-nod

_She_ grants to us, as granted by her God

But, Angelo, than thine grey Time unfurl'd

Never his fairy wing o'er fairier world!

Dim was its little disk, and angel eyes

Alone could see the phantom in the skies,

When first Al Aaraaf knew her course to be

Headlong thitherward o'er the starry sea

But when its glory swell'd upon the sky,

As glowing Beauty's bust beneath man's eye,

We paus'd before the heritage of men,

And thy star trembled – as doth Beauty then!"

Thus, in discourse, the lovers whiled away

The night that waned and waned and brought no day.

They fell: for Heaven to them no hope imparts

Who hear not for the beating of their hearts.

(1829-1845)

8. ИЗ ПОЭМЫ "АЛЬ-ААРАФ"

ГИМН НЕСЭСИ

"Дух! ты, кто в высоте,

Там, где в эфире ясном

Равно по красоте

Ужасное с прекрасным!

Где твердь завершена,

Где грань орбитам звездным,

Откуда плыть должна

Звезда назад по безднам!

Где твой предел святой,

Незримый лишь кометам,

Наказанным судьбой

За грех пред вечным светом,

Несущим пламя в даль,

Луч алый преступленья

И вечную печаль,

Вовек без промедленья!

Мы знаем: ты – во всем!

Ты – в вечности: мы верим!

Но на челе твоем

И тень – мы чем измерим?

Друзья весны моей

Хранили убежденье,

Что вечности твоей

Мы, в малом, отраженье.

Но все, как ты решил;

Звезда моя далеко.

И путь ей меж светил

Твое казало око.

Здесь мне мечтой взнестись

К тебе, что – путь единый:

В твою святую высь

Или в твои глубины.

Твой рок мне возвещен

Фантазией священной,

Пока не станет он

Открыт для всей вселенной!"

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

9. TO

1

Should my early life seem,

(As well it might), a dream

Yet I build no faith upon

The king Napoleon

I look not up afar

For my destiny in a star:

2

In parting from you now

Thus much I will avow

There are beings, and have been

Whom my spirit had not seen

Had I let them pass me by

With a dreaming eye

If my peace hath fled away

In a night – or in a day

In a vision – or in none

Is it therefore the less gone?

3

I am standing 'mid the roar

Of a weather-beaten shore,

And I hold within my hand

Some particles of sand

How few! and how they creep

Thro' my fingers to the deep!

My early hopes? no – they

Went gloriously away,

Like lightning from the sky

At once – and so will I.

4

So young? ah! no – not now

Thou hast not seen my brow,

But they tell thee I am proud

They lie – they lie aloud

My bosom beats with shame

At the paltriness of name

With which they dare combine

A feeling such as mine

Nor Stoic? I am not:

In the terror of my lot

I laugh to think how poor

That pleasure "to endure!"

What! shade of Zeno! – I!

Endure! – no – no – defy.

(1829)

9. К***

1.

Прежняя жизнь предо мной

Предстает, – что и верно, – мечтой;

Уж я не грежу бессонно

О жребии Наполеона,

Не ищу, озираясь окрест,

Судьбы в сочетании звезд.

2.

Но, мой друг, для тебя, на прощанье,

Одно я сберег признанье:

Были и есть существа,

О ком сознаю я едва,

Во сне предо мной прошли ли

Тени неведомой были.

Все ж навек мной утрачен покой,

Днем ли, – во тьме ль ночной,

На яву ль, – в бреду ль, – все равно ведь;

Мне душу к скорби готовить!

3.

Стою у бурных вод,

Кругом гроза растет;

Хранит моя рука

Горсть зернышек песка;

Как мало! как спешат

Меж пальцев все назад!

Надежды? нет их, нет!

Блистательно, как свет

Зарниц, погасли вдруг...

Так мне пройти, мой друг!

4.

Столь юным? – О, не верь!

Я – юн, но не теперь.

Все скажут, я – гордец.

Кто скажет так, тот – лжец!

И сердце от стыда

Стучит во мне, когда

Все то, чем я томим,

Клеймят клеймом таким!

Я – стоик? Нет! Тебе

Клянусь: и в злой судьбе

Восторг "страдать" – смешон!

Он – бледен, скуден – он!

Не ученик Зенона

Я. Нет! – Но – выше стона!

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

10. TO

The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see

The wantonest singing birds,

Are lips – and all thy melody

Of lip-begotten words

Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrined

Then desolately fall,

О God! on my funereal mind

Like starlight on a pall

Thy heart – thy heart! – I wake and sigh,

And sleep to dream till day

Of the truth that gold can never buy

Of the baubles that it may.

(1829-1845)

10. К***

Та роща, где, в мечтах, – чудесней

Эдемских, – птицы без числа:

Твои уста! и все те песни:

Слова, что ты произнесла!

На небе сердца, – горе! горе!

Нещадно жгуч твой каждый взгляд!

И их огни, как звезды – море,

Мой дух отравленный палят.

Ты, всюду – ты! Куда ни ступишь!

Я в сон спешу, чтоб видеть сны:

О правде, что ничем не купишь,

И о безумствах, что даны!

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

11. TO THE RIVER

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow

Of crystal, wandering water,

Thou art an emblem of the glow

Of beauty – the unhidden heart

The playful maziness of art

In old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks

Which glistens then, and trembles

Why, then the prettiest of brooks