Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах (билингва)

И вновь, как мрачный занавес над сценой,
Пока антракт идет, кошмары скрыв,
Ночь тяжко падает, и постепенно
Для тысяч жадных глаз за взрывом взрыв
Выписывает в сполохах кульбиты,
Во тьме топочут дымные копыта.

Едва один падет, став горсткой праха,

Тотчас же в небеса летит другой,
Как сто империй накануне краха,
Уверенные, гордые собой,
И каждый, устремляясь в свой зенит,
Нагроможденье трупов осветит,

Лежащих, наполняя воздух смрадом;

А позже солнце, в траур облачась,
Печально обнажит лежащих рядом
Гонцов, что возвестили утра час.

Перевод А. Серебренникова

William Soutar (1898–1943)

Craigie Knowes

Gin mornin daw
I’ll hear the craw
On Craigie Knowes
Wauk up the sin:

Wauk up the sin

Wi’ caw on caw
Whan day comes in
On Craigie Knowes:

On Craigie Knowes

A’ round about
I’ll hear the craw
Or day be düne:

Or day be düne

And sterns come out,
And houlets hoot
On Craigie Knowes.

Epitaph

They delv’d a saft hole
For Johnnie McNeel:
He aye had been droll
But folk likit him weel.

The bell gied a toll;

And Mess John in his goun
Spak guid-words for the soul
As Johnnie gaed doun.

On a wee, mossy-knoll,

That’s green a’ the year,
A stane-letter’d scroll
Tells Johnnie liggs there.

Nae lang rigmarole;

Juist-Johnnie McNeel
Was aye a bit droll
But folk likit him weel.

The Visitation

Cromwell was a sodger:
Cromwell was a saint:
Cromwell cam to Scotland
To mak himsel’ acquaint.

He rumml’d up his cannon

Afore St John’s Toun:
Wowf! Roar’d the cannon
And the wa’s fell doun.

A randy frae the Speygate

Yowl’d: “Haud on, ye füle!”
“Auld wife, auld wife:” craw’d Cromwell:
“I maun dae the Lord’s will”.

John Knox

John Knox he learn’d the Latin,
The Hebrew and the Greek:
But aften frae the poopit
His mither-tongue he’d speak.

In bane he was sma’-boukit,

But had a muckle beard
And when he gar’d it waggle
Baith man and beast were feard.

He brocht back frae the galleys

The snellness o’ the sea:
Its saut was in his sermons,
Its glitter in his e’e.

John Knox in destination

Warsl’d wi’ kirk and state;
And the souchin o’ his spirit
Blaws about Scotland yet.

The Tryst

O luely, luely cam she in
And luely she lay doun:
I kent her be her caller lips
And her breists sae sma’ and roun’.

A’ thru the nicht we spak nae word

Nor sinder’d bane frae bane:
A’ thru the nicht I heard her hert
Gang soundin’ wi’ my ain.

It was about the waukrife hour

Whan cocks begin to craw:
That she smool’d saftly thru the mirk
Afore the day wud daw.

Sae luely, luely cam she in

Sae luely was she gaen:
And wi’ her a’ my simmer days
Like they had never been.

Уильям Сутар (1898–1943)

Крэйги Ноуз