Тексты Уильяма Блейка из цикла Songs of Experience - Песни Познания
Часть 1. London
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning church appals;
And the hapless soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls.
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
По вольным улицам брожу,
У вольной издавна реки.
На всех я лицах нахожу
Печать бессилья и тоски.
Мужская брань, и женский стон,
И плач испуганных детей
В моих ушах звучат, как звон
Законом созданных цепей.
Здесь трубочистов юных крики
Пугают сумрачный собор,
И кровь солдата-горемыки
Течет на королевский двор.
А от проклятий и угроз
Девчонки в закоулках мрачных
Чернеют капли детских слез
И катафалки новобрачных.
Перевод С. Я. Маршака
Блуждая по пыльным улицам столицы,
Там, где Темзы поток струиться,
Я вижу лица - на них клеймо прожженно,
Печать нищеты, печали клеймо.
В молитве каждой, каждого из нас,
В младенцев плаче, не смыкающих от страха глаз,
Во всех отчаянных стенаниях к небесам,
Звенит цепями бездуховность, не чуждая нам.
Поглядите, как крики трубочистов
Ввергают в хаос церквей основы и софистов,
И как горемычных солдат предсмертный хрип
У стен дворцовых алой речкою бежит.
И как же, Боже, страшно мне в ночи,
Когда в борделе девочка кощунствует, кричит...
Тогда невинная слеза чернеет и гниет,
И от чумы уж скоро вовсе лицемерный брак помрет.
Перевод Л. Беспечной
From AMERICA. A PROPHECY
Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are
open;
And let his wife and children return from the opressor's
scourge.
They look behind at every step and believe it is a dream,
Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness, and has found a fresher
morning,
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion and Wolf shall
cease.
Вскрыться навстречу жизни, где нет ни Врат, ни Цепей,
Детям и женам чтоб надсмотрщика бич не грозил.
Пусть их не верят. Вера позже придет: не во сне
Все это. Песнь восторга грянет: "Исходом из тьмы
Солнце взошло, луна сияет в блаженной ночи,
Власть изошла - теперь не будет ни Волка, ни Льва!"
Перевод В. Л. Топорова
______________________________
Часть 2. The Fly
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die.
Летун проворный,
Твой летний бал
Рукой небрежной
Я вмиг прервал.
О мотылек!
Ты мне сродни.
Ведь сочтены
Часы и дни.
Вот я играю,
Резвлюсь, сную -
Но не прервут ли
И жизнь мою?
Пусть жизнь есть мысль,
И жар, и свет,
А смерть есть тьма,
Где мысли нет, -
И там, и там
Я лишь на срок.
И счастлив я -
Я мотылек.
Перевод Т. Стамовой (1996)
Малютка мошка,
Ты так хрупка!
Тебя сгубила
Моя рука.
А чем не мошка
Я, человек?
Ведь ненамного
Мой дольше век.
Пою, танцую,
Кружусь, пока
Меня не сгубит
Судьбы рука.
Но если разум
Для нас - как свет,
И где нет мысли -
Там жизни нет,
То жить ли буду
Иль смерти ждать,
Счастливой мошкой
Хочу летать.
Перевод А.Кудрявицкого (1994) Lyrics of William Blake from the cycle Songs of Experience - Songs of Knowledge
Part 1. London
I wander thro 'each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning church appals;
And the hapless soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls.
But most thro 'midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new-born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse.
I wander through the free streets
The river has long been free.
On all the faces I find
Seal of impotence and longing.
Male scolding, and female moan,
And the cry of scared children
In my ears sound like a jingle
The law of the created chains.
Here the chimney sweeps of young screams
Scare the gloomy cathedral
And the blood of a miserable soldier
Flowing to the royal court.
And from curses and threats
Girls in the back streets of the gloomy
Drops of children's tears turn black
And the hearse of the bride and groom.
Translation by S. Ya. Marshak
Wandering the dusty streets of the capital
Where the Thames flow stream,
I see faces - the stigma is burnt on them,
Seal of poverty, sadness stigma.
In the prayer of each, each of us,
In babies crying, not closing their eyes in fear,
In all desperate wailing to heaven
Ringing chains of spirituality, not alien to us.
See how the chimney sweeps scream
Throw the basics and sophists into the chaos of churches,
And like a miserable soldier, a death rattle
At the walls of the palace runs a scarlet river.
And how, God, I am scared in the night,
When a girl blasphemes in a brothel, she screams ...
Then an innocent tear blackens and rots,
And the plague will soon die a hypocritical marriage.
Translation by L. Beszdoy
From AMERICA. A PROPHECY
Rise and look out; his chains are loose, his dungeon doors are
open;
And let his wife and children return from the opressor's
scourge.
They look behind at every step and believe it is a dream,
Singing: "The Sun has left his blackness, and has found a fresher
morning
And the fair Moon rejoices in the clear and cloudless night;
For Empire is no more, and now the Lion and Wolf shall
cease.
Open to life, where there is no Gate, no Chains,
Children and wives so that the scavenger does not threaten the scourge.
Let them not be believed. Faith will come later: not in a dream
All this. A song of delight will strike: "Out of the darkness
The sun has risen, the moon shines on a blissful night
"The power has come out - now there will be neither Wolf nor Leo!"
Translation by V. L. Toporov
______________________________
Part 2. The Fly
Little fly
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If i live
Or if I die.
Agile flyer
Your summer ball
Hand careless
I interrupted instantly.
Oh the moth!
You are akin to me.
After all, numbered
Hours and days.
Here i am playing
Frozen, sleeping -
But won't they interrupt
And my life?
Let life be a thought
And heat and light
And death is darkness
Where there is no thought
Here and there
I am only for a period.
And I'm happy -
I'm a moth.
Translation by T. Stamova (1996)
Baby midge
You are so fragile!
Ruined you
My hand.
Why not midge
I am human?
After all, not much
Mine is longer than a century.
I sing, I dance
I'm spinning bye
Won't ruin me
Fate's hand.
But if the mind
For us it's like light
And where there is no thought -
There is no life there
I will live
Or wait for death
Happy midge
Want to fly.
Translation by A. Kudryavitsky (1994) Смотрите также: | |
