Эдгар По - Лирика Страница 3

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

Her worshipper resembles;

For in his heart, as in thy stream,

Her image deeply lies

His heart which trembles at the beam

Of her soul-searching eyes.

(1829-1845)

11. К РУЧЬЮ

Живой ручей! Как ясен ты,

Твой бег лучами вышит,

Твой блеск - эмблема красоты,

Души, открытой тайнам чувств,

Привольной прихоти искусств,

Чем дочь Альберто дышит.

Когда она глядит в тебя,

Дрожишь ты, многоводен,

И, детский лик волной дробя,

Со мной, ручей, ты сходен;

Как ты, вбираю я в себя

Ее черты глубоко,

И я, как ты, дрожу, дробя

Души взыскующее око.

(1924)

Перевод В. Брюсова

12. TO

I heed not that my earthly lot

Hath - little of Earth in it

That years of love have been forgot

In the hatred of a minute:

I mourn not that the desolate

Are happier, sweet, than I,

But that you sorrow for my fate

Who am a passer by.

(1828-1849)

12. * * *

Я не скорблю, что мой земной удел

Земного мало знал самозабвенья,

Что сон любви давнишней отлетел

Перед враждой единого мгновенья.

Скорблю я не о том, что в блеске дня

Меня счастливей нищий и убогий,

Но что жалеешь ты, мой друг, меня,

Идущего пустынною дорогой.

(1901)

Перевод К. Бальмонта

13. FAIRY-LAND

Dim vales - and shadowy floods

And cloudy-looking woods,

Whose forms we can't discover

For the tears that drip all over.

Huge moons there wax and wane

Again - again - again

Every moment of the night

Forever changing places

And they put out the star-light

With the breath from their pale faces.

About twelve by the moon-dial

One more filmy than the rest

(A kind which, upon trial,

They have found to be the best)

Comes down - still down - and down

With its centre on the crown

Of a mountain's eminence,

While its wide circumference

In easy drapery falls

Over hamlets, over halls,

Wherever they may be

O'er the strange woods - o'er the sea

Over spirits on the wing

Over every drowsy thing

And buries them up ojuite

In a labyrinth of light

And then, how deep! - O, deep!

Is the passion of their sleep.

In the morning they arise,

And their moony covering

Is soaring in the skies,

With the tempests as they toss,

Like - almost any thing

Or a yellow Albatross.

They use that moon no more

For the same end as before

Videlicet a tent

Which I think extravagant:

Its atomies, however,

Into a shower dissever,

Of which those butterflies,

Of Earth, who seek the skies,

And so come down again

(Never-contented things!)

Have brought a specimen

Upon their quivering wings.

(1829, 1845)

13. СТРАНА ФЕЙ

Мгла долов - тень по кручам

Лес, подобный тучам,

Чьи формы брезжут странно

В слепых слезах тумана.

Бессмертных лун чреда,

Всегда, - всегда, - всегда,

Меняя мутно вид,

Ущерб на диск, - бежит,