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Perevodchik - Nikolaj SHOSHUNOV
Email: shoshunov@mail.ru
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STIHOTVORENIYA G.F.LAVKRAFTA
ON READING LORD DUNSANY'S BOOK OF WONDER
The hours of night unheeded fly,
And in the grate the embers fade;
Vast shadows one by one pass by
In silent daemon cavalcade.
But still the magic volume holds
The raptur'd eye in realms apart,
And fulgent sorcery enfolds
The willing mind and eager heart.
The lonely room no more is there -
For to the sight in pomp appear
Temples and cities pois'd in air
And blazing glories - sphere on sphere.
1920
NA CHTENIE "KNIGI CHUDES" LORDA DANSENI
CHasy v nochi letyat, kak pticy,
V kamine ugol'ki goryat;
Prohodyat teni verenicej -
Molchashchih demonov parad.
YA unoshus' v inye sfery,
CHitaya knigu v tishine,
Kogda volshebnye himery
CHaruyut um i serdce mne.
I ya uzhe ne v etom mire -
YA vizhu, vizhu nakonec
Dvorcy i goroda v efire
I cep' pylayushchih kolec.
Babels of blocks to the high heavens towering
Flames of futility swirling below;
Poisonous fungi in brick and stone flowering,
Lanterns that shudder and death-lights that glow.
Black monstrous bridges across oily rivers,
Cobwebs of cable to nameless things spun;
Catacomb deeps whose dank chaos delivers
Streams of live foetor that rots in the sun.
Colour and splendour, disease and decaying,
Shrieking and ringing and crawling insane,
Rabbles exotic to stranger-gods praying,
Jumbles of odour that stifle the brain.
Legions of cats from the alleys nocturnal.
Howling and lean in the glare of the moon,
Screaming the future with mouthings infernal,
Yelling the Garden of Pluto's red rune.
Tall towers and pyramids ivy'd and crumbling,
Bats that swoop low in the weed-cumber'd streets;
Bleak Arkham bridges o'er rivers whose rumbling
Joins with no voice as the thick horde retreats.
Belfries that buckle against the moon totter,
Caverns whose mouths are by mosses effac'd,
And living to answer the wind and the water,
Only the lean cats that howl in the wastes.
1925
Grudy kamen'ev i blokov razbityh -
Vot vavilonskoj gordyni itog;
I yadovitaya plesen' na plitah
Tleet smertel'nym ogn¸m vdol' dorog.
Gryaznye rusla mosty perekryli,
Nit' pautiny svyazala himer;
Burnyj potok razlozhivshejsya gnili
L'¸tsya iz haosa lipkih peshcher.
Blesk i upadok, stradan'ya i kriki,
SHiryas', bezumie chertit krugi,
Tolpy molyashchihsya stranny i diki,
Merzostnyj zapah tumanit mozgi.
Toshchie koshki sbivayutsya v ordy
V t¸mnyh alleyah pri svete luny;
Adskoj grimasoj krivyatsya ih mordy
I zavyvaniya vsyudu slyshny.
Ulicy v zaroslyah dikoj krapivy,
Myshi letuchie nosyatsya v nih;
Kak otstupayushchij vrag molchalivy
Rzhavye cepi mostov razvodnyh.
Bashni sognulis' ot lunnogo sveta,
YAmy zality bolotnoj vodoj;
Veter zavoet, i vmesto otveta -
D'yavol'skih koshek pronzitel'nyj voj.
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of
feastings unhallowed and old.
There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sun's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance
round a Yule-altar fungous and white.
To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the thick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark,
from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.
And mayst thou to such deeds
Be an abbot and priest,
Singing cannibal greeds
At each devil-wrought feast,
And to all the incredulous world
shewing dimly the sign of the beast.
1926
Zdes' pod snegom prostory,
Veet holodom dal',
Noch' na stepi i gory
Opustila vual';
No ogni na vershinah govoryat,
chto nachalsya koldovskoj festival'.
V tuchah gibel' taitsya,
Zreet uzhas v nochi,
Lyudyam v m¸rtvye lica
Svetyat solnca luchi.
Ih bezumnye pesni, horovody
i plyaski kak pozhar goryachi.
I nesut uragany
CH¸rnoj pyli kluby,
Krepko dushat liany
Vekovye duby,
Sily t'my vylezayut iz mogil
pozabytyh, otkryvaya groby.
I molitvy ne mogut
Razognat' etot mrak,
Tol'ko d'yavol'skij gogot
Izda¸t vurdalak,
I naivnye lyudi v etom sumrachnom
mire vidyat uzhasa znak.
The thing, he said, would come in the night at three
From the old churchyard on the hill below;
But crouching by an oak fire's wholesome glow,
I tried to tell myself it could not be.
Surely, I mused, it was pleasantry
Devised by one who did not truly know
The Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,
That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.
He had not meant it - no - but still I lit
Another lamp as starry Leo climbed
Out of the Seekonk, and a steeple chimed
Three - and the firelight faded, bit by bit.
Then at the door that cautious rattling came -
And the mad truth devoured me like a flame!
1929
Skazal on: eta tvar' prihodit noch'yu
I rovno v tri, ot cerkvi u holma.
No ya ved' ne sosh¸l eshch¸ s uma -
Ne veryu v to, chto ne vidal vooch'yu.
Konechno, ya podumal - eto shutka;
Navernoe, odna iz teh primet,
CHto u lyudej v techen'e mnogih let
Derzhali um vo vlasti predrassudka.
Zazh¸g ya lampu - sh¸l uzh tretij chas
I v nebo podnyalos' sozvezd'e L'va.
A plamya uzhe teplilos' edva,
Vot tri probilo - i ogon' pogas.
I kto-to ostorozhno stuknul v dver' -
Ves' uzhas pravdy ponyal ya teper' !
They cut it down, and where the pitch-black aisles
Of forest night had hid eternal things,
They scaled the sky with towers and marble piles
To make a city for their revellings.
White and amazing to the lands around
That wondrous wealth of domes and turrets rose;
Crystal and ivory, sublimely crowned
With pinnacles that bore unmelting snows.
And through its halls the pipe and sistrum rang,
While wine and riot brought their scarlet stains;
Never a voice of elder marvels sang,
Nor any eye called up the hills and plains.
Thus down the years, till on one purple night
A drunken minstrel in his careless verse
Spoke the vile words that should not see the light,
And stirred the shadows of an ancient curse.
Forests may fall, but not the dusk they shield;
So on the spot where that proud city stood,
The shuddering dawn no single stone revealed,
But fled the blackness of a primal wood.
1929
Tot les kak v skazke byl dremuch i strashen,
No kak-to obitateli ego
Vzoshli na nebo po stupenyam bashen
I v nebe sotvorili volshebstvo.
Prekrasnyj gorod - v bespodobnom stile,
Kakogo my ne videli vovek:
Vzletali vvys' velichestvenno shpili
I kupola sverkali, slovno sneg.
A v zalah peli truby i valtorny -
Razgul, vesel'e, p'yanka i gul'ba.
Nikto eshch¸ ne znal, chto smerti ch¸rnoj
Tot gorod obrekla uzhe sud'ba.
Odnazhdy, op'yan¸n vinom stolovym,
Poet stihi frivol'nye rodil
I v nih neostorozhnym grubym slovom
Starinnoe proklyat'e razbudil.
Vot tak iz-za kakogo-to poeta
CHudesnyj gorod navsegda ischez,
I v sumerkah drozhashchego rassveta
Stoyal, kak prezhde, strashnyj t¸mnyj les.
In the Midnight heaven's burning
Through the ethereal deeps afar
Once I watch'd with restless yearning
An alluring aureate star;
Ev'ry eve aloft returning
Gleaming nigh the Arctic Car.
Mystic waves of beauty blended
With the gorgeous golden rays
Phantasies of bliss descended
In a myrrh'd Elysian haze.
In the lyre-born chords extended
Harmonies of Lydian lays.
And (thought I) lies scenes of pleasure,
Where the free and blessed dwell,
And each moment bears a treasure,
Freighted with the lotos-spell,
And there floats a liquid measure
From the lute of Israfel.
There (I told myself) were shining
Worlds of happiness unknown,
Peace and Innocence entwining
By the Crowned Virtue's throne;
Men of light, their thoughts refining
Purer, fairer, than my own.
Thus I mus'd when o'er the vision
Crept a red delirious change;
Hope dissolving to derision,
Beauty to distortion strange;
Hymnic chords in weird collision,
Spectral sights in endless range....
Crimson burn'd the star of madness
As behind the beams I peer'd;
All was woe that seem'd but gladness
Ere my gaze with Truth was sear'd;
Cacodaemons, mir'd with madness,
Through the fever'd flick'ring leer'd....
Now I know the fiendish fable
The the golden glitter bore;
Now I shun the spangled sable
That I watch'd and lov'd before;
But the horror, set and stable,
Haunts my soul forevermore!
ZV¨ZDNYJ UZHAS
V ch¸rnom nebe nablyudaya
Belyh tochek cheredu,
YA zametil vdrug u kraya
Zolotistuyu zvezdu;
I s teh por zhivu bez sna ya -
Vs¸ e¸ prihoda zhdu.
Mchalsya po volnam efira
Luch zvezdy - i pryam, i gord,
Po vsemu prostranstvu mira
Raj blazhenstva byl prost¸rt,
Raznosila zvonko lira
Po Vselennoj svoj akkord.
I kazalos' mne, chto gde-to
ZHizn' svobodna i legka,
Beskonechno dlitsya leto,
Slovno son plyvut veka,
L'¸tsya muzyka rassveta
Ot volshebnogo smychka.
Tam, ya mnil - lyubvi zhilishche,
Pyl vrazhdy davno ugas;
Tam ne dumayut o pishche
I ulybki - bez grimas;
U lyudej tam mysli chishche
I dobree, chem u nas.
Tak ya dumal - i mozgi mne
Zastilal bagrovyj bred,
Budto v seroj dymke zimnej
Tiho tayal solnca svet;
I ya slyshal v prezhnem gimne
CHuzhdyj ton gryadushchih bed.
Cvet zvezdy iz zolotogo
Stanovilsya vs¸ krasnej;
Na ustah zastylo slovo -
Ponyal ya, chto stalo s nej;
I v bezum'i nachal snova
YAzykom draznit'sya Zmej.
Tak menya pojmala v kleshchi
Zolotistaya zvezda:
Mne zamanchivye veshchi
Pokazala bez styda
I mne v dushu strah zloveshchij
Poselila navsegda !
Eternal brood the shadows on this ground,
Dreaming of centuries that have gone before;
Great elms rise solemnly by slab and mound,
Arched high above a hidden world of yore.
Round all the scene a light of memory plays,
And dead leaves whisper of departed days,
Longing for sights and sounds that are no more.
Lonely and sad, a specter glides along
Aisles where of old his living footsteps fell;
No common glance discerns him, though his song
Peals down through time with a mysterious spell.
Only the few who sorcery's secret know,
Espy amidst these tombs the shade of Poe.
Nad etoyu zeml¸j navisli teni,
Kak son vekov, proshedshih prezhde nas;
Skryvaya mir minuvshih pokolenij,
Nad plitami sklonilsya pyshnyj vyaz.
Pechal'nyj ryad - mogila za mogiloj,
I m¸rtvaya listva shurshit unylo
O teh, chej golos v vechnosti ugas.
I prizrak odinoko i surovo
Id¸t, stupaya v prezhnie sledy;
Nevidim on, no skazannoe slovo
Zvuchit, kak zaklinan'e ot bedy.
I tol'ko posvyashch¸nnye pojmut,
CHto eto |dgar Po gulyaet tut.
O give me the life of the Village,
Uninhibited, free, and sweet.
The place where the arts all flourish,
Grove Court and Christopher Street.
I am sick of the old conventions,
And critics who will not praise,
So sing ho for the open spaces,
And aesthetes with kindly ways.
Here every bard is a genius,
And artists are Raphaels,
And above the roofs of Patchin Place
The Muse of Talent dwells.
O, dajte pozhit' mne v derevne -
Spokojno, svobodno, legko !
Zdes' pesni poyutsya napevnej
I mozhno dyshat' gluboko.
Poklonnic i kritikov svora
Menya tol'ko delaet zlej.
Kak radostno pet' dlya prostora
SHirokih lugov i polej !
Tut vse malyary - Rafaeli,
Zdes' genij - lyuboj stihopl¸t.
Kto znaet - a vdrug v samom dele
Na kryshe tut Muza zhiv¸t ?
Slumber, watcher, till the spheres,
Six and twenty thousand years
Have revolv'd, and I return
To the spot where now I burn.
Other stars anon shall rise
To the axis of the skies;
Stars that soothe and stars that bless
With a sweet forgetfulness:
Only when my round is o'er
Shall the past disturb thy door.
Otdohni, moj zvezdoch¸t -
Mnogo tysyach let projd¸t
Prezhde, chem tvoya zvezda,
Sdelav krug, prid¸t tuda,
Gde ona gorit sejchas.
Zv¸zdy novye ne raz
Vspyhnut v nebe dlya tebya,
Uteshaya - ne lyubya.
Tol'ko ya, vernuvshis', vnov'
Razbuzhu v tebe lyubov'.
Last-modified: Thu, 14 Aug 2003 10:27:06 GMT