Читать «A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений» онлайн - страница 157

[1960s]

626. Довид Кнут (1900–1955). «Пусть жизнь становится мутней и непролазней…»

Let life grow dimmer, harder every day, let work become more vain, more useless, let men we can speak to seldom come our way, I thank You for the right of living yet. And let the years… Indeed it is but nothing that one pays: a tear and sigh — for fields, for songs afar, for cherished voices, for a brother's gaze, and for the air of this rejoicing star.

[1960s]

627. Михаил Лермонтов (1814–1841). Утес

Once a golden cloudlet spent the night on a giant cliff's great rugged breast; than at daybreak speeded on its quest, gaily playing in the azure light. But a spot of moisture lingered, traced in a wrinkle on the ancient stone; lost in thought, the giant stands alone, weeping softly in his barren waste.

10 Jan. 1961

628. Юрий Мандельштам (1908–1943). «Еще я беспокойнее иного…»

То V. Smolensky

I am more restless than another still, — a word that's said with casual caress, a furtive glance — still send through me a thrill, alike a tender glance or vivid dress. And even yet to me it is a pleasure to… a fancy, strange and far away to suffer from a rime, at times to measure emotion, caught by chance upon the way But every day the soul does stricter get, obeys the ray that moves not, and I feel that I will teach that same emotion yet, though that same rime to be of sadless zeal And soon, I know, — thanks to the God who takes us onward with a wisdom-guided palm, — we will exchange anxiety that aches for heavenly and light-abounding calm.

11 June 1930

629. Юрий Мандельштам (1908–1943). «К чему стихи? Уже и так от них…»

More verse? What for? Already from their curse the soul is sad, as unsuccessful verse. Already, when I barely close my eyes — comparisons to you before me rise. You are w o ndrous than a rose, and, too, more tender than my tenderness for you, or you are sad, a drooping willow tree, or toiling, as a love-abounding bee, or else you dream — and in that mood you stay to me more puzzling than a gloomy day. Our life is plain, less visible by far: and you are worse — yet better loved you are.

ca. 20 Aug. [1930]

630. Юрий Мандельштам (1908–1943). «За окном морозная луна…»

То Katherine Garon