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А ночью грезилась во сне;
Прочь от меня бежало зло —
Так сладко было мне.
О сердце глупое! Зачем
Ты счета не вело годам?
Низложен ими мой кумир
И уничтожен храм.
Перевод С. Лихачевой
Отрывок из баллады
Из дальней страны, по земле и волне
Незваным любимый вернулся ко мне;
Не помню, что молвил с порога мне он,
Но помню, как ветер стонал среди крон.
Пришел он, принять в свои руки готов
Мой крест — я несла его много годов,
Но я неохотно цедила слова,
И губы немели, открывшись едва.
Должно быть, задел этот тон ледяной
Отважное сердце, что дышит лишь мной:
Домой не любовь ли его привела —
Меня охранить от обиды и зла?
И ветер ярился, и хладен и рьян,
И маревом белым оделся курган,
И словно заклятье сдавило мне грудь,
Чтоб к смерти при жизни меня подтолкнуть.
Перевод С. Лихачевой
Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830–1894)
Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
At Home
When I was dead, my spirit turned
To seek the much-frequented house:
I passed the door, and saw my friends
Feasting beneath green orange boughs;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,
They sucked the pulp of plum and peach;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,
For each was loved of each.
I listened to their honest chat:
Said one: “To-morrow we shall be
Plod plod along the featureless sands
And coasting miles and miles of sea”.
Said one: “Before the turn of tide
We will achieve the eyrie-seat”.
Said one: “To-morrow shall be like
To-day, but much more sweet”.
“To-morrow”, said they, strong with hope,
And dwelt upon the pleasant way:
“To-morrow”, cried they one and all,
While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon;
I, only I, had passed away:
“To-morrow and to-day”, they cried;
I was of yesterday.
I shivered comfortless, but cast
No chill across the tablecloth;
I all-forgotten shivered, sad
To stay and yet to part how loth:
I passed from the familiar room,
I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest
That tarrieth but a day.
Marvel of Marvels
Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold
With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold;
Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold,
Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled,
Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled.
O saints, my beloved, now mouldering to mould in the mould,
Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unroll’d,
See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold
Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold, —
The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold!
Cold it is, my beloved, since your funeral bell was toll’d:
Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold!
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you pla
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while