Лирика

Их таинства навеки окутаны туманом,

Они полу сокрыты от слабых глаз людских.

Так хочет их Властитель, навеки возбранивший

Приоткрывать ресницы и поднимать чело,

И каждый дух печальный, в пределы их вступивший,

Их может только видеть сквозь дымное стекло.

Дорогой темной, нелюдимой,

Лишь злыми духами хранимой,

Где некий черный трон стоит,

Где некий Идол, Ночь царит,

Из крайних мест, в недавний миг,

Я дома своего достиг.

(1901)

Перевод К. Бальмонта

31. EULALIE

I dwelt alone

In a world of moan,

And my soul was a stagnant tide

Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing

bride

Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my

smiling bride.

Ah, less, less bright

The stars of the night

Than the eyes of the radiant girl,

And never a flake

That the vapor can make

With the moon-tints-of purple and pearl

Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most unregarded

curl

Can compare with the bright-eyed Eulalie's most

humble and careless curl.

Now Doubt - now Pain

Come never again,

For her sodi gives me sigh for sigh

And all day long

Shines bright and strong

Astarte within the sky,

While ever to her dear Eulalie upturns her matron

eye

While ever to her young Eulalie upturns her violet eye.

(1844-1845)

31. ЛЕЛЛИ

Исполнен упрека,

Я жил одиноко,

В затоне моих утомительных дней,

Пока белокурая нежная Лелли не стала стыдливой

невестой моей,

Пока златокудрая юная Лелли не стала счастливой

невестой моей.

Созвездия ночи

Темнее, чем очи

Красавицы-девушки, милой моей.

И свет бестелесный

Вкруг тучки небесной

От ласково-лунных жемчужных лучей

Не может сравниться с волною небрежной ее

золотистых воздушных кудрей,

С волною кудрей светлоглазой и скромной невесты

красавицы, Лелли моей.

Теперь привиденья

Печали, Сомненья

Боятся помедлить у наших дверей.

И в небе высоком

Блистательным оком

Астарта горит все светлей и светлей.

И к ней обращает прекрасная Лелли сиянье своих

материнских очей,

Всегда обращает к ней юная Лелли фиалки своих

безмятежных очей.

(1901)

Перевод К. Бальмонта

32. THE RAVEN

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered,

weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten

lore

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came

a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my

chamber door

'"Tis some visiter", I muttered, "tapping at my chamber

door

Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost

upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought

to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for

the lost Lenore

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels

name Lenore

Nameless _here_ for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple

curtain

Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never

felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood

repeating

"Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber

door

Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber

door;

This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no

longer,

"Sir", said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness

I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came

rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my

chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you" - here I opened

wide the door;

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there

wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared

to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave

no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered

word, "Lenore?"

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the

word, "Lenore!"

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me

burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than

before.

"Surely", said I, "surely that is something at my

window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery

explore

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery

explore;

'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt

and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days

of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped

or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my

chamber door

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber

door

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into

smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance

it wore,

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou", I said,

"art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from

the Nightly shore

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's

Plutonian shore!"

Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse

so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy

bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human

being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his

chamber door

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his

chamber door,

With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke

only