Na doroge moej zhizni CHasto vstrechalis' mne prelestnye sozdaniya, Odetye vo vse beloe, izluchavshie siyan'e. Kak-to raz sprosil ya odnu: - Kto ty? No ona, kak i drugie do nee, Ne otkinula s lica vual'. V volnenii progovorila ona toroplivo: - YA - Dobroe Deyanie, pover' mne. Ty chasto menya videl. - Da, s zakrytym licom, - otvetil ya. Bystrym, uverennym dvizheniem Otstraniv ee ruki, YA sorval s nee vual' - I otkrylsya mne lik tshcheslaviya. Pokrasnev ot styda, ona poshla dal'she. Nemnogo porazmysliv, YA skazal sebe: "Glupec!" Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 61 - I There was a man and a woman Who sinned. Then did the man heap the punishment All upon the head of her, And went away gayly. II There was a man and a woman Who sinned. And the man stood with her. As upon her head, so upon his, Fell blow and blow, And all people screaming: "Fool!" He was a brave heart. III He was a brave heart. Would you speak with him, friend? Well, he is dead, And there went your opportunity. Let it be your grief That he is dead And your opportunity gone; For, in that, you were a coward. I Muzhchina i zhenshchina ZHili vo grehe. Rasplachivat'sya za eto On predostavil ej, A sam s legkim serdcem udalilsya proch'. II Muzhchina i zhenshchina ZHili vo grehe. No etot muzhchina ne ostavil zhenshchinu, Kogda nad golovoj ee, kak i nad ego golovoj, Razrazilas' groza, I vse lyudi nasmehalis' nad nim: "Vot glupec!" On byl smelyj chelovek. III On byl smelyj chelovek. Hochesh' pogovorit' s nim, drug? Da, ty prav, on umer I eto uzhe nevozmozhno. Penyaj na sebya, CHto on umer I ty upustil etu vozmozhnost', - Ved' sam ty postupil kak trus. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 62 - There was a man who lived a life of fire. Even upon the fabric of time, Where purple becomes orange And orange purple, This life glowed, A dire red slain, indelible; Yet when he was dead, He saw that he had not lived. ZHil na svete chelovek, CH'ya zhizn' byla podobna fakelu v nochi. Dazhe na palitre vremeni, Gde bagryanec tak nezametno perehodit v zheltiznu, A zheltizna - v bagryanec, Ego zhizn' plamenela Ognenno-krasnym nesmyvaemym pyatnom. No umiraya, On osoznal, chto tolkom i ne zhil. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 63 - There was a great cathedral. To solemn song, A white procession Moved toward the altar. The chief man there Was erect, and bore himself proudly. Yet some could see him cringe, As in a place of danger, Throwing frightened glances into the air, A-start at threatening faces of the past. To byl velikij hram. Pod zvuki torzhestvennyh pesnopenij Belosnezhnaya processiya Dvigalas' k altaryu. CHelovek, povelevavshij vsemi, Byl staten, derzhalsya gordo. No koe-kto videl, kak on ezhilsya ot straha, Slovno vblizi tailas' opasnost', I brosal ispugannye vzglyady v prostranstvo, Gde emu chudilis' ugrozhayushchie lica iz Proshlogo. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 64 - Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground. Why do you stand, expectant? Do you hope to see it In one of your withered days? With your old eyes Do you hope to see The triumphal march of justice? Do not wait, friend! Take your white beard And your old eyes To more tender lands. Drug, tvoya sedaya boroda kasaetsya zemli. Pochemu stoish' ty v ozhidanii? O chem mechtaesh' ty Na sklone dnej tvoih? Neuzheli nadeesh'sya Uvidet' svoimi starymi glazami Pobednyj marsh Spravedlivosti? Ne zhdi etogo, drug! Otpravlyajsya v put', sedoborodyj, I ty uvidish' svoimi starymi glazami Inoj, luchshij mir. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo Drug, tvoya belaya boroda uzhe do zemli. CHto zh ty stoish', upovayushchij? Uzh ne nadeesh'sya li uzret' eto v®yave V svoi vethie dni? Uzh ne nadeesh'sya li uzret' Svoimi dryahlymi glazami Triumfal'nyj marsh spravedlivosti? Drug ne zhdi. Unosi svoyu beluyu borodu I svoi dryahlye glaza V bolee blagopriyatnye strany. Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo - 65 - Once, I knew a fine song, - It is true, believe me, - It was all of birds, And I held them in a basket; When I opened the wicket, Heavens! they all flew away. I cried: "Come back little thoughts!" But they only laughed. They flew on Until they were as sand Thrown between me and the sky. Kogda-to ya znal chudesnuyu pesnyu, - Pover'te mne, eto pravda - Ee peli pticy, Kotoryh derzhal ya v korzinke. Kogda odnazhdy otkryl ya dvercu, Bozhe! oni vse uleteli proch'. YA vskrichal: - Vernites', moi malen'kie mysli! No v otvet uslyshal tol'ko smeh. Oni vzmyvali vse vyshe, Poka ne stali kazat'sya mne gorst'yu peska, Broshennoj mezhdu mnoyu i nebesami. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 66 - If I should cast off this tattered coal, And go free into the mighty sky; If I should find nothing there But a vast blue, Echoless, ignorant, - What then? Esli ya sbroshu s sebya etu ponoshennuyu odezhdu I svobodnym ustremlyus' v nebesnye prostory; Esli ya ne najdu tam nichego, Krome neobozrimoj golubizny, Bezmolvnoj, neodushevlennoj, - CHto togda? Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 67 - God lay dead in Heaven; Angels sang the hymn of the end; Purple winds went moaning, Their wings drip-dripping With blood That fell upon the earth. It, groaning thing, Turned black and sank. Then from the far caverns Of dead sins Came monsters, livid with desire. They fought, Wrangled over the world, A morsel. But of all sadness this was sad, - A woman's arms tried to shield The head of a sleeping man From the jaws of the final beast. Bog lezhal mertvym na nebesah; Angely peli gimn proshchaniya; Bagryanye vihri, zazyvaya, Pronosilis' po nebu, Iz kryl'ev ih sochilas' krov' I kapala nazem'. Pochernevshaya, topkaya zemlya Izdavala stony. I vot iz glubokih peshcher, Gde pokoilis' grehi, Vosstali zlobnye chudishcha s goryashchimi glazami. Oni razbrelis' po svetu, Pozhiraya vseh, kto popadalsya navstrechu. Vse eto bylo uzhasno, No strashnee vsego bylo videt', Kak zhenshchina obhvatila rukami Golovu spyashchego muzhchiny, Pytayas' spasti ego ot pasti adskogo chudovishcha. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 68 - A spirit sped Through spaces of night; And as he sped, he called: "God! God!" He went through valleys Of black death-slime, Ever calling: "God! God!" Their echoes From crevice and cavern Mocked him: "God! God! God!" Fleetly into the plains of space He went, ever calling: "God! God!" Eventually, then, he screamed, Mad in denial: "Ah, there is no God!" A swift hand, A sword from the sky, Smote him, And he was dead. Dusha mchalas' Skvoz' nochnoj mrak; Na letu ona zvala: - Bozhe! Bozhe! Proletala ona nad chernymi Dolinami Smerti, Vse vremya vzyvaya: - Bozhe! Bozhe! |ho, obitayushchee v rasshchelinah skal, Peredraznivalo ee Na vse lady: - Bozhe! Bozhe! Bozhe! Vot vosparila dusha v nebesnye vysi, Vse vremya vzyvaya: - Bozhe! Bozhe! Nakonec, obezumev ot takogo prenebrezheniya, Ona v isstuplenii voskliknula: - Ah, Boga, navernoe, net! Totchas bystraya ruka, Metnuv molniyu s nebes, Pronzila ee - I ispepelila. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo Stihotvoreniya ne voshedshie v sborniki - 69-73 - "LEGENDS" I A man builded a bugle for the storms to blow. The focussed winds hurled him afar. He said that the instrument was a failure. II When the suicide arrived at the sky, the people there asked him: "Why?" He replied: "Because no one admired me." III A man said: "Thou tree!" The tree answered with the same scorn: "Thoy man! Thoy art greater ehan I only in thy possibilities." IV A warrior stood upon a peak and defied the stars. A little magpie, happening there, desired the soldier's plume, and so plucked it. V The wind that waves the blossoms sang, sang, sang from age to age. The flowers were made curious by this joy. "Oh, wind," they said, "why sing you at your labour, while we, pink beneficiaries, sing not, but idle, idle, idle from age to age?" "LEGENDY" I CHelovek postroil bol'shuyu trubu, chtob v nee trubil veter. SHkval sorval ee i umchal daleko-daleko. CHelovek skazal, chto vo vsem vinovata truba. II Kogda samoubijca popal na nebo, Tam ego sprosili: - Pochemu ty pokonchil s soboj? - Potomu chto nikto mnoyu ne voshishchalsya, - otvetil on. III CHelovek skazal: - Ty - derevo! Derevo otvetilo tak zhe prezritel'no: - Ty - chelovek! Tvoe prevoshodstvo nado mnoj lish' v tom, CHto u tebya bol'she vozmozhnostej. IV Voitel' stoyal na holme i vyzyval na boj zvezdy. Malen'kaya ptichka, proletavshaya mimo, Prel'stilas' sultanom na ego shlyape - i sorvala ego. V Veter, nezhno ovevavshij cvety, Neskonchaemo pel, pel, pel... Cvety udivlyalis' svoemu schast'yu. - O veter, - sprosili oni, - pochemu ty poesh', kogda trudish'sya, A my, rozovye balovni sud'by, ne poem I vsyu zhizn' neskonchaemo lenimsya, lenimsya, lenimsya. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 74 - When a people reach the top of a hill Then does God lean toward them, Shortens tongues, lengthens arms. A vision of their dead comes to the weak. The moon shall not be loo old Before the new battalions rise - Blue battalions - The moon shall not be too old When the children of change shall fall Before the new battalions - The blue battalions - Mistakes and virtues will be trampled deep A church a thief shall fall together A sword will come at the bidding of the eyeless, The God-led, turning only to beckon. Swinging a creed like a censer At the head of the new battalions - Blue battalions - March the tools of nature's impulse Men born of wrong, men born of right Men of the new battalions - The blue battalions - The clang of swords is Thy wisdom The wounded make gestures like Thy Son's The feet of mad horses is one part, - Aye, another is the hand of a mother on the brow of a son. Then swift as they charge through a shadow. The men of the new battalions - Blue battalions - God lead them high. God lead them far Lead them far, lead them high These new battalions - The blue battalions - Kogda lyudi dostignut vershiny holma, Bog nagnetsya k nim, Svyazhet yazyki, razvyazhet ruki. Teni pogibshih tovarishchej yavyatsya slabym. Luna ne uspeet sostarit'sya, Kak podnimutsya novye batal'ony - Golubye batal'ony - Luna ne uspeet sostarit'sya, Kak deti peremen padut, Srazhennye novymi batal'onami - Golubymi batal'onami - Poroki i dobrodeteli budut vtoptany v zemlyu, Pravednik i zhulik pogibnut vmeste, Mech obrushitsya po veleniyu slepcov, Napravlyaemyj Bogom, poslushnyj kazhdomu ego kivku. Raskachivayushchijsya, kak kadilo, styag Vo glave novyh batal'onov - Golubyh batal'onov - Bryacajte oruzhiem, tesh'te svoi dikie instinkty, Lyudi, porozhdennye zlom, lyudi, porozhdennye dobrom, Lyudi iz novyh batal'onov - Golubyh batal'onov - Lyazg mechej - vot Tvoya mudrost', Ranenye korchatsya kak Tvoj raspyatyj syn; Skachka beshenyh loshadej - odna storona medali, Drugaya zhe - ruka materi na chele syna. Stremitel'ny atakuyushchie v sumerkah Lyudi iz novyh batal'onov - Golubyh batal'onov - Bog vedet ih vvys'. Bog vedet ih vdal'. Vedet vdal', vedet vvys' |ti novye batal'ony - Golubye batal'ony - Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 75 - Rumbling, buzzing, turning, whirling Wheels, Dizzy Wheels! Wheels! Skripyashchie, gremyashchie, vertyashchiesya, krutyashchiesya Kolesa, Beshenye Kolesa! Kolesa! Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo Stihotvoreniya iz sbornika "Vojna Dobraya" - 1899 - - 76 - Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the Battle-God, great, and his Kingdom - A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie. Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind. He plach', devushka, vojna ved' dobraya. Esli tvoj vozlyublennyj neistovo vskinul k nebu ruki I kon' ego v ispuge pomchalsya dal'she bez sedoka, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. Gromkie, treskuchie polkovye barabany; Nichtozhnye dushi, polnye boevogo zadora, |ti lyudi rozhdeny, CHtoby shagat' stroem i umirat'; Neob®yasnimyj oreol slavy okruzhaet ih. Velik Bog Vojny, i vladeniya ego - Polya, gde lezhat tysyachi trupov. Ne plach', malysh, vojna ved' dobraya. Esli tvoj otec upal na zheltyj pesok v okope, Razodral na grudi mundir i, zadohnuvshis', umer, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. YArkoe stremitel'noe polkovoe znamya, Orel s zolotisto-krasnym grebeshkom. |ti lyudi rozhdeny, chtoby shagat' stroem i umirat'. Vtolkuj im, chto ubijstvo - eto dobrodetel', Skazhi im o sladosti krovoprolitiya, O polyah, gde lezhat tysyachi trupov. Mat', ch'e serdce, slovno na tonkoj nitochke, Podvesheno k pyshnomu belomu savanu syna, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo Ne plach', deva, ibo vojna dobraya. Iz-za togo, chto tvoj milyj bezumno vzmahnul rukami I napugannyj kon' ponessya dal'she odin, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. Hriplye gromkie barabany vojny, Melkie dushi, stremyashchiesya k bor'be, |ti lyudi sozdany dlya mushtry i smerti. Neob®yasnimaya slava vitaet nad nimi, Velik bog vojny i ego carstvo - Pole i v pole tysyacha mertvyh. Ne plach', ditya, ibo vojna dobraya. Iz-za togo, chto otec tvoj ruhnul v zheltyh transheyah, Rval na sebe mundir, zahlebyvalsya i umer, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. Bystroe yarkoe znamya polka, Orel s zolotym i alym grebnem, |ti lyudi sozdany dlya mushtry i smerti. Obuchi ih iskusstvu smertoubijstva, Pokazhi im velichie slavnyh poboishch I pole i v pole tysyachu mertvyh. Mat', skorbnoe serdce tvoe smirenno sklonilos' Nad siyayushchim svetlym savanom syna, Ne plach'. Vojna dobraya. Per. Andreya Sergeeva - 77 - "What says the sea, little shell? What says the sea? Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships, Awkward ships, stupid ships." "The sea bids you mourn, oh, pines, Sing low in the moonlight. He sends tale of the land of doom, Of place where endless falls A rain of women's tears, And men in grey robes - Men in grey robes - Chant the unknown pain." "What says the sea, little shell? What says the sea? Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships, Puny ships, silly ships." "The sea bids you teach, oh, pines, Sing low in the moonlight, Teach the gold of patience, Cry gospel of gentle hands, Cry a brotherhood of hearts. The sea bids you teach, oh, pines." "And where is the reward, little shell? What says the sea? Long has our brother been silent to us, Kept his message for the ships, Puny ships, silly ships." "No word says the sea, oh, pines, No word says the sea. Long will your brother be silent to you, Keep his message for the ships, Oh, puny pines, silly pines." - CHto govorit okean, malen'kaya rakushka? CHto govorit okean? Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash, Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej, Neuklyuzhih korablej, tyazhelyh korablej. - Okean molit vas plakat', o sosny, Tiho pet' pri lunnom svete. V govore ego slyshny legendy zemli obrechennyh, Strany, gde bespreryvno Padaet dozhd' zhenskih slez I lyudi v seryh odezhdah - Lyudi v seryh odezhdah - Krichat ot nevedomoj boli. - CHto govorit okean, malen'kaya rakushka? CHto govorit okean? Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash, Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej, Nichtozhnyh korablej, glupyh korablej. - Okean molit vas propovedovat', o sosny, Tiho pet' pri lunnom svete, Vozveshchat' zolotuyu zapoved' terpeniya, Vozdyhat' o teple dobryh ruk, Oplakivat' bratstvo serdec. Oksan molit vas propovedovat', o sosny. - A gde zhe nagrada, malen'kaya rakushka? CHto govorit okean? Dolgo ne otvechal nam brat nash, Hranil on svoi vesti dlya korablej, Nichtozhnyh korablej, glupyh korablej. - Ni slova ne govorit okean, o sosny, Ni slova ne govorit okean. Dolgo ne otvetit vam brat vash, Hranit on svoi vesti dlya korablej, O nichtozhnye sosny, glupye sosny. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 78 - To the maiden The sea was blue meadow Alive with little froth-people Singing. To the sailor, wrecked, The sea was dead grey walls Superlative in vacancy Upon which nevertheless at fateful time Was written The grim hatred of nature. Dlya devy More bylo golubym lugom, Na kotorom rezvilis' i peli Malen'kie rusalochki. Dlya moryaka posle korablekrusheniya More bylo mertvenno-seroj stenoyu, Neobozrimoj, sovershenno pustynnoj, Na kotoroj, odnako, v eti rokovye minuty YAsno chitalis' znaki, Vydavavshie besposhchadnuyu nenavist' prirody. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo Dlya devushki More bylo golubaya dolina, Gde zhili kroshechnye gnomy peny I peli. Dlya moryaka s pogibshego sudna More bylo mertvye serye steny, Gigantskie pustye, Na kotoryh, odnako, v rokovuyu minutu Byla napisana Mrachnaya nenavist' Natury. Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo - 79 - A little ink more or less! It surely can't matter? Even the sky and the opulent sea, The plains and the hills, aloof, Hear the uproar of all these books. But it is only a little ink more or less. What? You define me God with these trinkets? Can my misery meal on an ordered walking Of surpliced numbskulls? And a fanfare of lights? Or even upon the measured pulpitings Of the familiar false and true? Is this God? Where, then, is hell? Show me some bastard mushroom Sprung from a pollution of blood. It is better. Where is God? CHut' bol'she ili chut' men'she chernil - Tak li eto vazhno? Dazhe nebo i beskrajnie morya, Ravniny i dal'nie gory Slyshat shum, podnyatyj mnogochislennymi knigami. No eto vsego lish' chernila - chut' bol'she ili chut' men'she. CHto? Ty hochesh' opisat' Boga pri pomoshchi etoj erundy? Utolit li moyu duhovnuyu zhazhdu CHinnoe shestvie oblachennyh v stihari bolvanov? Ili fanfary sveta? Ili dazhe osmotritel'naya propoved' Navyazshih na zubah pravdy i lzhi? Razve vo vsem etom - Bog? Gde zhe togda d'yavol? Izobrazi luchshe yadovitye griby, Vspoennye zarazhennoj krov'yu. |to vyjdet udachnee. Gde zhe Bog? Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 80 - "Have you ever made a just man?" "Oh, I have made three," answered God, "But two of them are dead And the third - Listen! Listen! And you will hear the third of his defeat." - Sluchalos' li Tebe sotvorit' pravednika? - O, ya sozdal troih, - otvetil Bog, - No dvoe iz nih umerli, A tretij... Prislushajtes' - i vy uslyshite, Kak tretij oplakivaet svoyu gor'kuyu uchast'. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo "Sotvoril li ty kogda-nibud' pravednika?" "YA sotvoril troih, - otvetil Gospod', - No dvoe uspeli s teh por umeret', A tretij - Prislushajsya! Vot! Slyshish'? |to on padaet zamertvo!" Per. Vladimira Britanishskogo - 81 - I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, The sweep of each sad lost wave The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striving The little cry of a man to a man A shadow falling across the greyer night And the sinking of the small star. Then the waste, the far waste of waters And the soft lashing of black waves For long and in loneliness. Remember, thou, o ship of love Thou leaves! a far waste of waters And the soft lashing of black waves For long and in loneliness. YA hochu zapechatlet' serebristyj sled korablya v nochi, Vsplesk kazhdoj pechal'noj ugasayushchej volny, Zamirayushchij shum vody pod stal'nym kilem, Otryvistye vykriki lyudej, Ten', padayushchuyu v nochnoj mrak, I zvezdu, tonushchuyu v puchine. Potom - lish' prostory, beskrajnie prostory vod I ti? li govor chernyh voln, Na dolgie vremena, v odinochestve. Pomni zhe, o ty, korabl' lyubvi, Ty pokidaesh' beskrajnie prostory vod I tihij govor chernyh voln Na dolgie vremena, v odinochestve. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo YA ob®yasnyayu, zachem serebristyj korabl' plyvet v nochi, I udar kazhdoj grustnoj otvergnutoj im volny, Gasnushchij gul ustremlennogo vdal' stal'nogo korpusa, Dalekuyu pereklichku matrosov, Novuyu ten' na temno-seroj nochi, I ugasan'e upavshej zvezdy. Posle - pustynya, bol'shaya pustynya vod I myagkij plesk chernyh voln Nadolgo i v odinochestve. Zapomni zhe, o korabl' lyubvi, Ty pokidaesh' etu bol'shuyu pustynyu vod I myagkij plesk chernyh voln Nadolgo i v odinochestve. Per. Andreya Sergeeva - 82 - "I have heard the sunset song of the birches A white melody in the silence I have seen a quarrel of the pines. At nightfall The little grasses have rushed by me With the wind men. These things have I lived," quoth the maniac, "Possessing only eyes and ears. But, you- You don green spectacles before you look at roses." - YA slyshal pesn' berez na zakate, Beluyu melodiyu, zvuchavshuyu v tishine; YA videl, kak ssorilis' mezhdu soboyu sosny; V sumerkah Proneslis' mimo menya travinki, Vlekomye tem, ch'e imya - veter. Vse eto ya oshchushchal, Obladaya lish' zreniem i sluhom, - skazal bezumec, - A ty... Ty nadevaesh' zelenye ochki pered tem kak vzglyanut' na rozy, Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 83 - Fast rode the knight With spurs, hot and reeking Ever waving an eager sword. "To save my lady!" Fast rode the khight And leaped from saddle to war. Men of steel flickered and gleamed Like riot of silver lights And the gold of the knight's good banner Still waved on a castle wall. A horse Blowing, staggering, bloody thing Forgotten at foot of castle wall. A horse Dead at foot of castle wall. Vo ves' opor skakal rycar', Prishporivaya ustalogo, vzmylennogo konya, Neterpelivo razmahivaya mechom. - Spasti gospozhu moego serdca! Vo ves' opor skakal rycar', I, vyprygnuv iz sedla, vstupil v boj. Zakovannye v stal' lyudi metalis' i otbivalis', Rozhdaya bezumnuyu plyasku serebristyh otbleskov. No zoloto slavnogo rycarskogo styaga Vse zhe zablestelo nad krepostnymi stenami. Kon', Izmuchennyj, zadyhayushchijsya, istekayushchij krov'yu, Zabyt pod krepostnoj stenoj. Kon' Gibnet pod kreposnoj stenoj. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 84 - Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the wind- When he looked about him he was in far strange country. Forth went the candid man And spoke freely to the stars- Yellow light tore sight from his eyes. "My good fool," said a learned bystander, "Your operations are mad." "You are too candid," cried the candid man And when his stick left the head of the learned bystander It was two sticks. Vse dal'she shel pryamodushnyj chelovek, Svobodno beseduya s vetrom - Ozirayas', on videl sebya v dalekoj neznakomoj strane. Vse dal'she shel pryamodushnyj chelovek, Svobodno beseduya so zvezdami - ZHeltyj svet ih zapechatlelsya v ego vzglyade. - Moj dorogoj glupec, - skazal obrazovannyj prohozhij, - Tvoi postupki bezumny. - Tvoya pryamota oskorbitel'na! - vskrichal pryamodushnyj chelovek, I, kogda ego palka otskochila ot golovy obrazovannogo prohozhego, Ona prevratilas' v dve palki. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 85 - You tell me this is God? I tell you this is a printed list, A burning candle and an ass. Ty govorish' mne, chto vidish' Boga? YA govoryu tebe, chto vizhu Goryashchuyu svechu, otkrytuyu knigu I vperivshegosya v nee osla. Per. Anatoliya Kudryavickogo - 86 - On the desert A silence from the moon's deepest valley. Fire-rays fall athwart the robes Of hooded men, squat and dumb. Before them, a woman Moves to the blowing of shrill whistles And distant-thunder of drums While slow things, sinuous, dull with terrible color Sleepily fondle her body Or move at her will, swishing stealthily over the sand. The snakes whisper softly; The whispering, whispering snakes Dreaming and swaying and staring But always whispering, softly whispering. The wind streams from the lone reaches Of Arabia, solemn with night, And the wild fire makes shimmer of blood Over the robes of the hooded men Squat and dumb. Bands of moving bronze, emerald, yellow Circle the throat and the arms of her And over the sands serpents move warily Slow, menacing and submissive, Swinging to the whistles and drums, The whispering, whispering snake, Dreaming and swaying and staring But always whispering, softly whispering. The dignity of the accursed; The glory of slavery, despair, death Is in the dance of the whispering snakes. V pustyne Tishina glubokih lunnyh dolin. Ognennye luchi koso padayut na shirokie odezhdy kapyushony Lyudej, prignuvshihsya, molchalivyh. Vperedi zhenshchina, Bredushchaya tuda, otkuda donositsya pronzitel'nyj vetra I dalekij rokot barabanov; Medlitel'nye izvivayushchiesya tvari zloveshchego tusklogo cveta Sonno laskayut ee telo Ili, poslushnye ee vole, besshumno skol'zyat po pesku. Zmei shepchutsya chut' slyshno; SHepchushchiesya, shepchushchiesya zmei, Dremlyushchie, izvivayushchiesya, vstayushchie dybom, No vse ravno shepchushchiesya, chut' slyshno shepchushchiesya. Veter duet iz bezlyudnyh prostorov Aravii, Pogruzhennyh v sumerki; Zarnicy brosayut krovavye otbleski Na shirokie odezhdy i kapyushony lyudej, Prignuvshihsya, molchalivyh. ZHivye lenty - bronzovye, izumrudnye, zheltye - V'yutsya vokrug ee shei i ruk; Zmejki ostorozhno skol'zyat po pesku, medlitel'nye