h moih skorbyah, Kak luch sredi nenast'ya, Kak ostrov na volnah, Cvety, lyubov', uchast'e Cveli v tvoih glazah. Tot son byl slishkom nezhen, I ya rasstalsya s nim. I chernyj mrak bezbrezhen. Mne shepchut Dni: "Speshim!" No duh moj beznadezhen, Bezmolven, nedvizhim. O, kak tumanna bezdna Navek pogibshih dnej! I duh moj bespolezno Lezhit, drozhit nad nej, Lazur' nebes bezzvezdna, I net, i net ognej. Sady nadezhd bezmolvny, Im bol'she ne cvesti, Pechal'no pleshchut volny "Prosti - prosti - prosti", Sady nadezhd bezmolvny, Mne nekuda idti. I dni moi - tomlen'e, I noch'yu vse mechty Iz t'my uedinen'ya Speshat tuda, gde - ty, Vozdushnoe viden'e Nezdeshnej krasoty! (1895) Perevod K. Bal'monta 20. HYMN At morn - at noon - at twilight dim - Maria! thou hast heard my hymn! In joy and wo - in good and ill - Mother of God, be with me still! When the Hours flew brightly by, And not a cloud obscured the sky, My soul, lest it should truant be, Thy grace did guide to thine and thee; Now, when storms of Fate o'ercast Darkly my Present and my Past, Let my Future radiant shine With sweet hopes of thee and thine! (1833-1849) 20. GIMN Zarej, - dnem, - v vechera gluhie, - Moj gimn ty slyshala, Mariya! V dobre i zle, v bede i schast'e, Celen'e mne - tvoe uchast'e! Kogda chasy ognem svetali, I oblaka ne tmili dalej, CHtob ne bluzhdat' kak piligrim, YA shel k tebe, ya shel k tvoim. Vot buri Roka rushat yavno Moe "teper'", moe "nedavno", No "zavtra", veruyut mechty, Razgonyat mrak - tvoi i ty! (1924) Perevod V. Bryusova 21. THE COLISEUM Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary Of lofty contemplation left to Time By buried centuries of pomp and power! At length - at length - after so many days Of weary pilgrimage and burning thirst, (Thirst for the springs of lore that in thee lie), I kneel, an altered and an humble man, Amid thy shadows, and so drink within My very soul thy grandeur, gloom, and glory! Vastness! and Age! and Memories of Eld! Silence! and Desolation! and dim Night! I feel ye now - I feel ye in your strength - O spells more sure than e'er Judaean king Taught in the gardens of Gethsemane! O charms more potent than the rapt Chaldee Ever drew down from out the quiet stars! Here, where a hero fell, a column falls! Here, where the mimic eagle glared in gold, A midnight vigil holds the swarthy bat! Here, where the dames of Rome their gilded hair Waved to the wind, now wave the reed and thistle! Here, where on golden throne the monarch lolled, Glides, spectre-like, unto his marble home, Lit by the wan light of the horned moon, The swift and silent lizard of the stones! But stay! these walls - these ivy-clad arcades - These mouldering plinths - these sad and blackened shafts - These vague entablatures - this crumbling frieze - These shattered cornices - this wreck - this ruin - These stones - alas! these gray stones - are they all - All of the famed, and the colossal left By the corrosive Hours to Fate and me? "Not all" - the Echoes answer me - "not all! "Prophetic sounds and loud, arise forever "From us, and from all Ruin, unto the wise, "As melody from Memnon to the Sun. "We rule the hearts of mightiest men - we rule "With a despotic sway all giant minds. "We are not impotent - we pallid stones. "Not all our power is gone - not all our fame - "Not all the magic of our high renown - "Not all the wonder that encircles us - "Not all the mysteries that in us lie - "Not all the memories that hang upon "And cling around about us as a garment, "Clothing us in a robe of more than glory." (1833-1843) 21. KOLIZEJ Proobraz Rima drevnego! Svyatynya, Roskoshnyj znak vysokih sozercanij, Ostavlennyj dlya Vremeni vekami Pohoronennoj pyshnosti i vlasti. O, nakonec, chrez stol'ko-stol'ko dnej Razlichnyh stranstvij, zhazhdy nenasytnoj, (Toj zhazhdy, chto iskala rodnikov Sokrytyh znanij, zdes', v tebe lezhashchih), Smirennym izmenennym chelovekom, Sklonyayus' ya teper' pered toboj, Sredi tvoih tenej, i upivayus', Dushoj svoej dushi, v tvoem velich'i, V tvoej pechali, pyshnosti, i slave. Obshirnost'! Drevnost'! Pamyat' nekih dnej! Molchanie! I Noch'! I Bezuteshnost'! YA s vami - ya vas vizhu v vashej slave - O, chary, dostovernee teh char, CHto byli skryty sadom Gefsimanskim, - Vlastnej teh char, chto, s tihih zvezd struyas', Voznikli nad Haldeem voshishchennym! Gde pal geroj, kolonna upadaet! Gde vilsya zolotoj orel, tam v polnoch' - Storozhevoj polet letuchej myshi! Gde Rimskie matrony razvevali Po vetru set' volos pozolochennyh, Teper' tam razvevayutsya volchcy! Gde, razvalyas' na zolotom prestole, Sidel monarh, teper', kak prividen'e, Pod sumrachnym luchom luny dvurogoj, V svoj kamenistyj dom, hranya molchan'e, Proskal'zyvaet yashcherica skal! No podozhdi! uzheli eti steny - I eti svody v setke iz plyushcha - I eti polustershiesya glyby - I eti pochernevshie stolby - I prizrachnye eti arhitravy - I eti obvalivshiesya frizy - I etot mrak - razvaliny - oblomki - I eti kamni - gore! eti kamni Sedye - neuzheli eto vse, CHto edkie Mgnoven'ya poshchadili Iz prezhnego velichiya i slavy, Hranya ih dlya Sud'by i dlya menya? "Ne vse - mne vtoryat Otkliki - ne vse. Prorocheskie zvuki voznikayut Naveki, gromkim golosom, iz nas, I ot Razvalin k mudromu stremyatsya, Kak zvuchnyj golos ot Memnona k Solncu. My vlastvuem serdcami samyh sil'nyh, Vliyaniem svoim samoderzhavnym Blyudem vse ispolinskie umy. Net, ne bessil'ny sumrachnye kamni. Ne vsya ot nas ischezla nasha vlast', Ne vsya volshebnost' svetloj nashej slavy - Ne vse nas okruzhayushchie chary - Ne vse v nas zataivshiesya tajny - Ne vse vospominan'ya, chto, nad nami Zamedliv, oblekli nas navsegda V pokrov togo, chto bolee, chem slava". (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 22. TO F - S S. O - D Thou wouldst be loved? - then let thy heart From its present pathway part not! Being everything which now thou art, Be nothing which thou art not. So with the world thy gentle ways, Thy grace, thy more than beauty, Shall be an endless theme of praise, And love - a simple duty. (1833?-1845) 22. V ALXBOM [FRENSIS SARDZHENT Osgud] Ty hochesh' byt' lyubimoj? - Ver' Tomu puti, kotorym shla. Bud' tol'ko to, chto ty teper', Ne bud' nichem, chem ne byla. Tak mil tvoj vzor, tak stroen vid, Tak vyshe vseh ty krasotoj, CHto ne hvalit' tebya - to styd, Lyubit' - lish' dolg prostoj. (1924) Perevod V. Bryusova 23. TO F - Beloved! amid the earnest woes That crowd around my earthly path - (Drear path, alas! where grows Not even one lonely rose) - My soul at least a solace hath In dreams of thee, and therein knows An Eden of bland repose. And thus thy memory is to me Like some enchanted far-off isle In some tumultuous sea - Some ocean throbbing far and free With storms - but where meanwhile Serenest skies continually Just o'er that one bright island smile. (1835-1845) 23. K F. Lyubimaya! mezh vseh unynij, CHto vkrug menya sbiraet Rok (O, grustnyj put', gde sred' polyni Vovek ne rascvetet cvetok), YA vse zh dushoj ne odinok: Mysl' o tebe tvorit v pustyne |dem, v kotorom mir - glubok. Tak! pamyat' o tebe - i v gore Kak nekij ostrov mezh zybej, Volshebnyj ostrov v burnom more, V puchine toj, gde na prostore Bushuyut volny, vse sil'nej, - Vse zh nebo, s blagost'yu vo vzore, Na ostrov l'et potok luchej. (1924) Perevod V. Bryusova 24. BRIDAL BALLAD The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; Satins and jewels grand Are all at my command, And I am happy now. And my lord he loves me well; But, when first he breathed his vow, I felt my bosom swell - For the words rang as a knell, And the voice seemed his who fell In the battle down the dell, And who is happy now. But he spoke to re-assure me, And he kissed my pallid brow, While a reverie came o'er me, And to the church-yard bore me, And I sighed to him before me, (Thinking him dead D'Elormie,) "Oh, I am happy now!" And thus the words were spoken; And this the plighted vow; And, though my faith be broken, And, though my heart be broken, Here is a ring, as token That I am happy now! - Behold the golden token That _proves_ me happy now! Would God I could awaken! For I dream I know not how, And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken, - Lest the dead who is forsaken May not be happy now. (1836-1849) 24. SVADEBNAYA BALLADA Obruchena kol'com, Vdyhaya ladan sinij, S girlyandoj nad licom, V almazah, pod vencom, - Ne schastliva l' ya nyne! Moj muzh v menya vlyublen... No pomnyu vecher sinij, Kogda mne klyalsya on: Kak pohoronnyj zvon Zvuchala rech', kak ston Togo, kto pal, srazhen, - Togo, kto schastliv nyne. Smyagchil on gorech' slez Moih v tot vecher sinij; Menya (ne bred li grez?) Na kladbishche otnes, Gde mertvecu, mezh roz, SHepnula ya vopros: "Ne schastliva l' ya nyne?" YA poklyalas' v otvet Emu, v tot vecher sinij. Pust' mne nadezhdy net, Pust' very v serdce net, Vot - apel'sinnyj cvet: Ne schastliva l' ya nyne? O, bud' mne suzhdeno Dlit' son i vecher sinij! Vse uzhasom polno Pred tem, chto sversheno. O! tot, kto mertv davno, Ne budet schastliv nyne! (1924) Perevod V. Bryusova 25. TO ZANTE Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How many scenes of what departed bliss! How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! How many visions of a maiden that is No more - no more upon thy verdant slopes! No _more_! alas, that magical sad sound Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no _more_ - Thy memory no _more_! Accursed ground Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" (1836) 25. ZANTE Prekrasnyj ostrov! Luchshij iz cvetov Tebe svoe dal nezhnoe nazvan'e. Kak mnogo oslepitel'nyh chasov Ty budish' v glubine vospominan'ya! Kak mnogo snov, chej umer yarkij svet, Kak mnogo dum, nadezhd pohoronennyh! Videnij toj, kotoroj bol'she net, Net bol'she na tvoih zelenyh sklonah! Net bol'she! skorbnyj zvuk, ch'e volshebstvo Menyaet vse. Za etoj tishinoyu Net bol'she char! Otnyne predo mnoyu Ty proklyat sred' rascveta svoego! O, giacintnyj ostrov! Alyj Zante! "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 26. THE HAUNTED PALACE In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace - Radiant palace - reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion - It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair! Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow - (This - all this - was in the olden Time long ago) And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away. Wanderers in that happy valley, Through two luminous windows, saw Spirits moving musically, To a lute's well-tuned law, Round about a throne where, sitting, Porphyrogene, In state his glory well befitting The ruler of the realm was seen. And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore, A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty Was but to sing, In voices of suprassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate. (Ah, let us mourn! - for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed, Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old-time entombed. And travellers, now, within that valley, Through the encrimsoned windows see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody, While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh - but smile no more. (1838-1848) 26. ZAKOLDOVANNYJ ZAMOK V samoj zelenoj iz nashih dolin, Gde obitalishche duhov dobra, Nekogda zamok stoyal vlastelin, Kazhetsya, vysilsya tol'ko vchera. Tam on vzdymalsya, gde Um molodoj Byl samoderzhcem svoim. Net, nikogda nad takoj krasotoj Ne raskryval svoih kryl Serafim! Bilis' znamena, gorya, kak ogni, Kak zolotoe sverkaya runo. (Vse eto bylo - v minuvshie dni, Vse eto bylo davno.) Polnyj vozdushnyh svoih peremen, V nezhnom siyanii dnya, Veter dushistyj vdol' prizrachnyh sten Vilsya, krylatyj, chut' slyshno zvenya. Putniki, stranstvuya v oblasti toj, Videli v dva ognevye okna Duhov, idushchih pevuchej chetoj, Duhov, kotorym zvuchala struna, Vkrug togo trona, gde vysilsya on, Bagryanorodnyj geroj, Slavoj, dostojnoj ego, okruzhen, Car' nad volshebnoyu etoj stranoj, Vsya v zhemchugah i rubinah byla Pyshnaya dver' zolotogo dvorca, V dver' vse plyla i plyla i plyla, Iskryas', gorya bez konca, Armiya Otklikov, dolg chej svyatoj Byl tol'ko - slavit' ego, Pet', s porazhayushchej sluh krasotoj, Mudrost' i silu carya svoego. No zlye sozdan'ya, v odezhdah pechali, Napali na divnuyu oblast' carya. (O, plach'te, o, plach'te! Nad tem, kto v opale, Ni zavtra, ni posle ne vspyhnet zarya!) I vkrug ego doma ta slava, chto prezhde ZHila i cvela v obayan'i luchej, ZHivet lish' kak ston panihidy nadezhde, Kak pamyat' edva vspominaemyh dnej. I putniki vidyat, v tom krae tumannom, Skvoz' okna, zalitye krasnoyu mgloj, Ogromnye formy, v dvizhenii strannom, Diktuemom diko zvuchashchej strunoj. Mezh tem kak, protivnye, bystroj rekoyu, Skvoz' blednuyu dver', za kotoroj Beda, Vynosyatsya teni i shumnoj tolpoyu, Zabyvshi ulybku, hohochut vsegda. (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 27. SONNET - SILENCE There are some qualities - some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is a two-fold _Silence_ - sea and shore - Body and Soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore, Render him berrorless: his name's "No more." He is the corporate Silence: dread him not! No power hath he of evil in himself; But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!) Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf, That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod No foot of man), commend thyself to God! (1839-1845) 27. MOLCHANIE Est' svojstva - sushchestva bez voploshchen'ya, S dvojnoyu zhizn'yu: vidimyj ih lik - V toj sushchnosti dvoyakoj, chej rodnik - Svet v veshchestve, predmet i otrazhen'e. Dvojnoe est' _Molchan'e_ v nashih dnyah, Dusha i telo - berega i more. Odno zhivet v zabroshennyh mestah, Vchera travoj porosshih; v yasnom vzore, Glubokom, kak prozrachnaya voda, Ono hranit pechal' vospominan'ya, Sredi rydanij najdennoe znan'e; Ego nazvan'e: "Bol'she Nikogda". Ne bojsya voploshchennogo Molchan'ya, Ni dlya kogo ne skryto v nem vreda. No esli ty s ego stolknesh'sya ten'yu (|l'f bezymyannyj, chto zhivet vsegda Tam, gde lyudskogo ne bylo sleda), Togda molis', ty obrechen muchen'yu! (1895) Perevod K. Bal'monta 28. THE CONQUEROR WORM Lo! 'tis a gala night Within the lonesome latter years! An angel throng, bewinged, bedight In veils, and drowned in tears, Sit in a theatre, to see A play of hopes and fears, While the orchestra breathes fitfully The music of the spheres. Mimes, in the form of God on high, Mutter and mumble low, And hither and thither fly - Mere puppets they, who come and go At bidding of vast formless things That shift the scenery to and fro, Flapping from out their Condor wings Invisible Wo! That motley drama - oh, be sure It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimic rout A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude! It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs The mimes become its food, And seraphs sob at vermin fangs In human gore imbued. Out - out are the lights - out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, While the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm That the play is the tragedy, "Man," And its hero the Conqueror Worm. (1842-1849) 28. CHERVX-POBEDITELX Vo t'me bezuteshnoj - blistayushchij prazdnik, Ognyami volshebnyj teatr ozaren; Sidyat serafimy, v pokrovah, i plachut, I kazhdyj pechal'yu glubokoj smushchen. Trepeshchut krylami i smotryat na scenu, Nadezhda i uzhas prohodyat, kak son; I zvuki orkestra v trevoge vzdyhayut, Zaoblachnoj muzyki slyshitsya ston. Imeya podobie Gospoda Boga, Snuyut skomorohi tuda i syuda; Nichtozhnye kukly, prihodyat, uhodyat, O chem-to bormochut, vorchat inogda. Nad nimi navisli ogromnye teni, So sceny oni ne ujdut nikuda, I kryl'yami Kondora veyut besshumno, S teh kryl'ev nezrimo sletaet - Beda! Mishurnye lica! - No znaesh', ty znaesh', Prichudlivoj p'ese zabveniya net. Bezumcy za Prizrakom gonyatsya zhadno, No Prizrak skol'zit, kak bluzhdayushchij svet. Bezhit on po krugu, chtob snova vernut'sya V ishodnuyu tochku, v svyatilishche bed; I mnogo Bezumiya v drame uzhasnoj, I Greh v nej zavyazka, i Schast'ya v nej net. No chto eto tam? Mezhdu gaerov pestryh Kakaya-to krasnaya forma polzet, Ottuda, gde scena okutana mrakom! To cherv', - skomoroham on gibel' neset. On korchitsya! - korchitsya! - gnusnoyu past'yu Ispugannyh gaerov alchno gryzet, I angely stonut, i cherv' iskazhennyj Bagryanuyu krov' nenasytno soset. Potuhli ogni, dogorelo siyan'e! Nad kazhdoj figuroj, drozhashchej, nemoj, Kak savan zloveshchij, krutitsya zavesa, I padaet vniz, kak poryv grozovoj - I angely, s mest podnimayas', bledneyut, Oni utverzhdayut, ob®yatye t'moj, CHto eta tragediya ZHizn'yu zovetsya, CHto CHerv'-Pobeditel' - toj dramy geroj! (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 29. LENORE Ah, broken is the golden bowl! - the spirit flown forever! Let the bell toll! - a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river: - And, Guy De Vere, hast _thou_ no tear? - weep now or never more! See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! Come, let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung! - An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young - A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young. "Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and ye hated her for her pride; And, when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her - that she died: - How _shall_ the ritual then be read - the requiem how be sung By you - by yours, the evil eye - by yours the slanderous tongue That did to death the innocence that died and died so young?" _Peccauimus_: - yet rave not thus! but let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenore hath gone before, with Hope that flew beside, Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride - For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies, The life upon her yellow hair, but not within her eyes - The life still there upon her hair, the death upon her eyes. "Avaunt! - avaunt! to friends from fiends the indignant ghost is riven - From Hell unto a high estate within the utmost Heaven - From moan and groan to a golden throne beside the King of Heaven: - Let no bell toll, then, lest her soul, amid its hallowed mirth Should catch the note as it doth float up from the damned Earth! And I - tonight my heart is light: - no dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with a Paean of old days!" (1844-1849) 29. LINOR O, sloman kubok zolotoj! dusha ushla navek! Skorbi o toj, chej duh svyatoj - sredi Stigijskih rek. Gyui de Vir! Gde ves' tvoj mir? Skloni svoj temnyj vzor: Tam grob stoit, v grobu lezhit tvoya lyubov', Linor! Pust' gor'kij golos panihid dlya vseh zvuchit bedoj, Pust' slyshim my, kak nam psalmy poyut v toske svyatoj, O toj, chto dvazhdy umerla, skonchavshis' molodoj. "Lzhecy! Vy byli pered nej - dvulikij hor tenej. I nad bol'noj vash duh nochnoj shepnul: Umri skorej! Tak kak zhe mozhet gimn skorbet' i strojno pet' o toj, Kto vashim glazom byl ubit i vashej klevetoj, O toj, chto dvazhdy umerla, nevinno-molodoj?" _Peccavimus_: no ne trevozh' napeva pohoron, CHtob duh otshedshij toj mol'boj s zemlej byl primiren. Ona nevestoyu byla, i Radost' v nej zhila, Nadev nesvadebnyj ubor, tvoya Linor ushla. I ty bezumstvuesh' v toske, tvoj duh skorbit o nej, I svet volos ee gorit, kak by ogon' luchej, Siyaet zhizn' ee volos, no ne ee ochej. "Podite proch'! V moej dushe ni t'my, ni skorbi net. Ne panihidu ya poyu, a pesnyu luchshih let! Pust' ne zvuchit protyazhnyj zvon ugryumyh pohoron, CHtob ne byl svetlyj duh ee tem sumrakom smushchen. Ot vrazh'ih polchishch gordyj duh, ujdya k druz'yam, ischez, Iz bezdny temnyh Adskih zol v vysokij mir CHudes, Gde zolotoj gorit prestol Vlastitelya Nebes". (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 30. DREAM-LAND By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named Night, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule - From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of Space - out of Time. Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the dews that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters - lone and dead, - Their still waters - still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily. By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead, - Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily, - By the mountains - near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, - By the grey woods, - by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp, - By the dismal tarns and pools Where dwell the Ghouls, - By each spot the most unholy - In each nook most melancholy, - There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past - Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by - White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth - and Heaven. For the heart whose woes are legion Tis a peaceful, soothing region - For the spirit that walks in shadow O! it is an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not - dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses. By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, name NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule. (1844-1849) 30. STRANA SNOV Dorogoj temnoj, nelyudimoj, Lish' zlymi duhami hranimoj, Gde nekij chernyj tron stoit, Gde nekij Idol, Noch' carit, Do etih mest, v nedavnij mig, Iz krajnej Fule ya dostig, Iz toj strany, gde vechno sny, gde char vysokih postoyanstvo, Vne Vremeni - i vne Prostranstva. Bezdonnye doliny, bezbrezhnye potoki, Provaly i peshchery. Gigantskie lesa, Ih sumrachnye formy - kak smutnye nameki, Nikto ne razlichit ih, na vsem drozhit rosa. Vozvyshennye gory, stremyashchiesya vechno Obrushit'sya, skvoz' vozduh, v morya bez beregov, Techeniya morskie, chto zhazhdut beskonechno Vzmetnut'sya vvys', k pozharu goryashchih oblakov. Ozera, bespredel'nost' prostorov polnovodnyh, Nemaya beskonechnost' pustynnyh mertvyh vod, Zatish'e vod pustynnyh, bezmolvnyh i holodnyh, So snegom spyashchih lilij, somknutyh v horovod. Bliz ozernyh zatonov, mezh dalej polnovodnyh, Bliz etih odinokih pechal'nyh mertvyh vod, Bliz etih vod pustynnyh, pechal'nyh i holodnyh, So snegom spyashchih lilij, somknutyh v horovod, - Bliz gor, - bliz rek, chto v'yutsya, kak vodnye allei, I ropshchut ele slyshno, zhurchat - zhurchat vsegda, - Vblizi sedogo lesa, - vblizi bolot, gde zmei, Gde tol'ko zmei, zhaby, da rzhavaya voda, - Vblizi prudkov zloveshchih i temnyh yam s vodoyu, Gde pritailis' Ved'my, chto vozlyubili mglu, - Vblizi vseh mest proklyatyh, nasyshchennyh bedoyu, O, v samom nechestivom i gorestnom uglu, - Tam putnik, uzhasnuvshis', vstrechaet pred soboyu Zakutannye v savan videniya tenej, Vstayushchie vnezapno vozdushnoyu tolpoyu, Vospominan'ya byvshih nevozvratimyh Dnej. Vse v beloe odety, oni prohodyat mimo, I vzdrognut, i, vzdohnuvshi, speshat k sedym lesam, Viden'ya otoshedshih, chto stali ten'yu dyma, I predany, s rydan'em, Zemle - i Nebesam. Dlya serdca, ch'i stradan'ya - stolikaya gromada, Dlya duha, chto pechal'yu i mgloyu okruzhen, Zdes' tihaya obitel', - uslada, - |l'dorado, - Lish' zdes' iznemozhennyj s soboyu primiren. No putnik, prohodyashchij po etim divnym stranam, Ne mozhet - i ne smeet otkryto videt' ih, Ih tainstva naveki okutany tumanom, Oni polu sokryty ot slabyh glaz lyudskih. Tak hochet ih Vlastitel', naveki vozbranivshij Priotkryvat' resnicy i podnimat' chelo, I kazhdyj duh pechal'nyj, v predely ih vstupivshij, Ih mozhet tol'ko videt' skvoz' dymnoe steklo. Dorogoj temnoj, nelyudimoj, Lish' zlymi duhami hranimoj, Gde nekij chernyj tron stoit, Gde nekij Idol, Noch' carit, Iz krajnih mest, v nedavnij mig, YA doma svoego dostig. (1901) Perevod K. Bal'monta 31. EULALIE