oj ruke zimy obezobrazit' v tebe tvoe leto do togo, kak vydelena tvoya essenciya; napolni sladost'yu kakoj-nibud' sosud, obogati kakoe-to _vmestilishche_ [mesto] sokrovishchem tvoej krasoty do togo, kak ona samounichtozhitsya. Takoe ispol'zovanie [pomeshchenie v rost] ne yavlyaetsya zapreshchennym rostovshchichestvom, ono delaet schastlivymi teh, kto oplachivaet dobrovol'nuyu ssudu; ty vprave porodit' drugogo sebya ili _stat'_ v desyat' raz schastlivee, esli _"procent" budet_ desyat' k odnomu. Desyatikratno umnozhennyj, ty byl by schastlivee, chem teper', esli by desyat' tvoih _detej_ desyat' raz vosproizveli tvoj oblik; togda chto mogla by podelat' smert', esli by ty pokinul _etot mir_, ostaviv sebya zhit' v potomstve? Ne bud' svoenravnym, ved' ty slishkom prekrasen, CHtoby stat' dobychej smerti i sdelat' chervej svoimi naslednikami. Poka ruka svirepejshej iz zim Ne pogubila oblik letnij, milyj, Fial napolni sushchestvom svoim, I krasota ne konchit put' mogiloj. Kak kreditor, chto vygodnyj zaem S procentom pribyl'nym vernet obratno, Ty mog by v svetlom obraze svoem Uvidet' sam sebya desyatikratno. Ty zhil by ne odin, a desyat' raz, Desyatikratno povtorennyj v detyah, Kogda by probil tvoj poslednij chas, Ty v nih by zhil, uzh ne zhivya na svete. Naslednikami prelesti svoej, Smotri, ne sdelaj zemlyanyh chervej. Perevod A. Kuznecova Ne daj Zime surovoyu rukoyu Sok letnij vyzhat' - napolnyaj sosud I sladost'yu svoeyu, i krasoyu, Ne to oni besslavno propadut. Ne greh vzimat' procenty bezvozvratno; Dayut vzajmy, procent ogovoriv, I ty prodolzhish' zhizn' desyatikratno, V synah sebya dostojno povtoriv. Syn kazhdyj povtorit tebya raz desyat', I desyat' raz umnozhit kazhdyj vnuk - Tysyachekratno zhit' tebe na svete: U Smerti dlya tebya ne hvatit ruk. Odumajsya, krasu gubit' ne smej, Naslednikami delaya chervej. Perevod I. Fradkina 7 Lo in the orient when the gracious light Lifts up his burning head, each under eye Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, Serving with looks his sacred majesty; And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill, Resembling strong youth in his middle age, Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, Attending on his golden pilgrimage: But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, Like feeble age he reeleth from the day, The eyes (fore duteous) now converted are From his low tract and look another way: So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son. Glyadi: kogda na vostoke blagodatnoe svetilo podnimaet pylayushchuyu golovu, vnizu vse glaza otdayut pochesti etomu novoyavlennomu zrelishchu, sluzha vzglyadami ego svyashchennomu velichestvu; i kogda _ono_ vzobralos' na krutoj nebesnyj holm, napominaya krepkogo molodogo cheloveka v rascvete let, vzglyady smertnyh po-prezhnemu lyubuyutsya ego krasotoj, soprovozhdaya ego _blistatel'noe_ [zolotoe] puteshestvie; no kogda s vysshej tochki, na _iznoshennoj_ [utomlennoj] kolesnice, kak dryahlaya starost', ono, shatayas', pokidaet den', glaza, prezhde predannye, otvorachivayutsya ot etogo nizkogo uchastka _puti_ i glyadyat proch'. Tak i ty, teper' vstupayushchij v svoj polden', Umresh', nikomu ne nuzhnyj, esli tol'ko ne zavedesh' syna. Vot na vostoke milostivyj svet, Gorya, pod®emlet golovu svoyu. Vse, prisyagaya, chtut ego rascvet I pochesti glazami vozdayut. Vzbirayas' vverh, na holm nebes krutoj, Mladoe solnce k zrelosti idet, I vzory, voshishchayas' krasotoj, Soprovozhdayut put' luchistyj tot. Kogda zhe postarevshij piligrim Ustalo kolesnicej pravit vniz, Glaza, chto shli pochtitel'no za nim, Uzh ot nego davno vse otreklis'. I tak zhe na zakate ty rastaesh', Kol' na zemle ty syna ne ostavish'. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Smotri: kogda vzdymaet na vostoke Pylayushchuyu golovu voshod, Ves' mir vziraet na nego v vostorge I pochesti, kak bogu, vozdaet. Kogda, vzojdya na goru golubuyu, Svetilo polno zhizni molodoj, Vse tak zhe dushu smertnuyu lyubuyu Plenyaet etot putnik zolotoj. Kogda zhe s vysoty, uzhe ne v sile, Ono povozkoj shatkoj katit v noch', Glaza, chto prezhde predanno sledili, Gnushayutsya upadka, smotryat proch'. I ty, sejchas vhodyashchij v poru poldnya, Umresh' odin, otcovstva ne ispolnya. Perevod A. SHarakshane 8 Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy: Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly, Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear; Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother, Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing; Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none.' _Sam_ muzyka dlya sluha, pochemu ty pechalish'sya, slysha muzyku? Priyatnoe ne voyuet s priyatnym, udovol'stvie raduetsya udovol'stviyu; pochemu zhe ty lyubish' to, chto prinimaesh' neohotno, ili zhe prinimaesh' s radost'yu to, chto tebe dosadno? Esli vernoe sozvuchie horosho nastroennyh _strun_ [zvukov], soedinennyh v [brachnye] soyuzy, oskorblyaet tvoj sluh, _tak eto potomu_, chto oni myagko uprekayut tebya, gubyashchego v bezbrachii [muzykal'nye] partii, kotorye ty dolzhen ispolnit'. Smotri, kak struny, odna - lyubeznyj suprug drugoj, udaryayut, kazhdaya s kazhdoj vo vzaimnom poryadke, napominaya roditelya, rebenka i schastlivuyu mat', kotorye, vse kak odin, poyut odnu radostnuyu notu. Ih pesnya bez slov, v kotoroj neskol'ko _golosov_ kazhutsya odnim _golosom_, poet tebe: "Ty odin okazhesh'sya nichem". Ty - muzyka, no s muzykoj v razlade, A radost' s radost'yu zhivet v ladu. Tak pochemu ty rad svoej dosade I lyubish' to, v chem chuvstvuesh' bedu? Ved' eto zvuk, so zvukom obruchen, Lish' potomu tvoj oskorblyaet sluh, CHto kazhdyj mig napominaet on, Kak v odinochestve bedneet duh. Poslushaj, kak igroj netoroplivoj Mnogogolos'e struny sozdayut. Tak syn s otcom i mater'yu schastlivoj V trojnom edinstve slazhenno poyut. Oni bez slov dayut tebe uprek: Nemnogo proku v tom, kto odinok. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Sam - muzyka dlya sluha, otchego zhe Ty, muzyke vnimaya, vse grustnej? Slast' lyubit slast', so schast'em schast'e shozhe, A zdes' pechal' - i radost' ryadom s nej! Naverno, v zvukah strojnogo poryadka Dushe smushchennoj slyshitsya uprek, Oni koryat nastojchivo i sladko: Zachem ty sam dosele odinok? Smotri - soglas'ya uzy, slovno sem'i, Svyazuyut zvuki: kazhdaya struna Poet dlya vseh, v soglasii so vsemi - Kak muzh, ditya, schastlivaya zhena... Skol' mnogo zvukov! No edina sut': "Neprav izbravshij odinokij put'". Perevod D. SHCHedrovickogo 9 Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye That thou consum'st thyself in single life? Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die, The world will wail thee like a makeless wife; The world will be thy widow and still weep, That thou no form of thee hast left behind, When every private widow well may keep, By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind: Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it, But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, And kept unused the user so destroys it: No love toward others in that bosom sits That on himself such murd'rous shame commits. _Ne_ iz boyazni li uvlazhnit' glaza vdovy ty rastrachivaesh' sebya v odinokoj zhizni? O! esli tebe sluchitsya umeret' bezdetnym, mir budet oplakivat' tebya, kak lishennaya pary {*} zhena. Mir budet tvoej vdovoj i _budet_ vechno skorbet', chto ty ne ostavil posle sebya nikakogo svoego obraza, togda kak lyubaya obyknovennaya vdova mozhet hranit', _vspominaya_ po glazam detej, oblik muzha v svoej dushe. Podumaj: to, chto mot tratit v etom mire, tol'ko perehodit s mesta na mesto, tak kak mir po-prezhnemu obladaet etim, no rastrata krasoty - eto ee konec v mire, i, ne ispol'zuya {**} ee, vladelec ee unichtozhaet. Net lyubvi k drugim v grudi u togo, kto sovershaet nad samim soboj takoe ubijstvennoe zlodeyanie. {* Soglasno kommentatoram, v etom meste originala "makeless" sleduet chitat' kak "mateless". ** Rech' idet o vygodnom ispol'zovanii, prinosyashchem "procenty", to est' rozhdenii detej.} Ne slez li vdov'ih hochesh' izbezhat' I odinoko put' prohodish' svoj? No esli rod ne stanesh' prodolzhat', Ves' mir tvoej okazhetsya vdovoj. Vdova ne perestanet slezy lit': Ved' ty nadezhdy ne ostavil ej Supruga milyj obraz voskresit', Poglubzhe zaglyanuv v glaza detej. Promotano bogatstvo - ne beda, Ono, smeniv vladel'ca, ucelelo. No krasotu ty gubish' navsegda I razrushaesh', ne puskaya v delo. Ty ne lyubil, dolzhno byt', do sih por, Raz terpish' svoj ubijstvennyj pozor. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Il' tak tebya sleza pugaet vdov'ya, CHto odinochestva ty terpish' gnet? No kol' umresh' ty, ne rodiv podob'ya, Ves' mir tebya oplakivat' nachnet. Dlya mira smert' tvoya tem budet huzhe, CHto obraz tvoj ni v chem ne budet zhiv, Kogda vdovice vspominat' o muzhe Dano, sebya synami okruzhiv. CHto v mire mot potratil - ne ischezlo, Lish' pomenyalo mesto bez vreda, No, krasotu rastrativ bespolezno, Ub'esh' ee dlya mira navsegda. Lyubvi v dushe tot ne imeet k lyudyam, Kto vinovat v sem prestuplen'e lyutom. Perevod A. SHarakshane 10 For shame deny that thou bear-st love to any, Who for thyself art so improvident. Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, But that thou none lov'st is most evident; For thou art so possess'd with murd'rous hate, That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire, Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate Which to repair should be thy chief desire: O change thy thought, that I may change my mind! Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind, Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: Make thee another self, for love of me, That beauty still may live in thine or thee. Stydis'! Nepravda, chto u tebya est' lyubov' k komu-to - _u tebya_, kotoryj v otnoshenii sebya tak nerazumen. Mozhno soglasit'sya, esli ugodno, chto ty lyubim mnogimi, no, chto ty nikogo ne lyubish', sovershenno ochevidno; ibo ty tak oderzhim ubijstvennoj nenavist'yu, chto ne ostanavlivaesh'sya pered tem, chtoby stroit' kozni samomu sebe, stremyas' razrushit' prekrasnyj krov, zabota o sohrannosti kotorogo dolzhna byt' tvoim glavnym zhelaniem. O, peremeni svoi mysli, chtoby ya mog izmenit' svoe mnenie! _Neuzheli_ nenavist' dolzhna imet' luchshee zhilishche, chem nezhnaya lyubov'? Bud', kak _samo_ tvoe prisutstvie, milostivym i dobrym ili k sebe po krajnej mere proyavi dobroserdechie: sotvori drugogo sebya radi menya, chtoby krasota mogla vechno zhit' v tvoih _detyah_ ili v tebe. Pokajsya, chto sebya ne sudish' strogo, Legko bezhish' ot schast'ya svoego. Ty govorish', v tebya vlyublennyh mnogo, No sam-to ty ne lyubish' nikogo. K lyubvi svoej ubijstvenno surov, Ty i ne dumaesh' surovost' skryt' I razrushaesh' tot prekrasnyj krov, Kotoryj ty by dolzhen ukrepit'. Tak ubedi menya, chto eto lozh'. Uzhel' vrazhda pochetnee lyubvi? Bud' shchedr dushoj, kak ty soboj horosh, Hotya by sam dlya schast'ya ozhivi. Ty povtoris' v naslednike svoem, Pust' krasota zhivet v tebe i v nem. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Kakoj pozor! - Provodish' dni bespechno, Bespovorotno krasotu gubya. Lyubov' k tebe u mnogih beskonechna, No ni k komu lyubvi net u tebya: ZHivesh', vredit' sebe ne prekrashchaya. Ty s krasotoj svoej voyuesh' sam, V razvaliny pozorno prevrashchaya Samoj Prirodoj vozvedennyj hram. Peremenis'! I o tebe suzhden'e I ya peremenyu. Uzhel' vrazhda K sebe - tebe daruet naslazhden'e? Dobree stan' k sebe ty navsegda, - Lyubya menya, svoj rod ne prekrashchaj: Krasu i yunost' synu peredaj. Perevod I. Fradkina 11 As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest: Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, Without this, folly, age, and cold decay: If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away. Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look whom she best endowed she gave the more; Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. Po mere togo kak ty budesh' prihodit' v upadok, tak zhe bystro ty budesh' rascvetat' v odnom iz tvoih _detej_, iz togo, chto otdelish' ot tebya, i tu svezhuyu krov', kotoruyu ty, buduchi molodym, podarish', ty smozhesh' nazvat' svoej, kogda utratish' molodost'. V etom - mudrost', krasota i rost; bez etogo - bezrassudstvo, starost' i holodnoe uvyadanie. Esli by vse dumali tak, _kak ty_, vremena prekratilis' by i za tri dvadcatiletiya {*} mir ischez by. Pust' te, kogo Priroda sozdala ne dlya togo, chtoby sohranyat', - neotesannye, urodlivye, grubye, - pogibnut besplodnymi; no kogo ona nadelila luchshe vsego, _tem_ ona dala bol'she {**}, i etot obil'nyj dar ty dolzhen zabotlivo priumnozhat'. Ona izvayala tebya kak svoyu pechat' i imela v vidu, chtoby ty proizvel bol'she ottiskov, a ne dal pogibnut' etomu obrazcu. {* T.e. za chelovecheskij vek. ** V originale - trudnoe dlya istolkovaniya mesto. Vozmozhnoe prochtenie: "...vsem, kogo Priroda nadelila luchshe vsego, ona darit i bol'she shansov ostavit' potomstvo". Po drugoj versii, "the" v stroke 11 sleduet ponimat' kak "thee"; v takom sluchae vsya stroka oznachaet: "kogo by i kak by priroda ni odarila, tebe ona dala bol'she".} My, uvyadaya, vmeste s tem rastem V svoem potomke, v nashem daleke. Krov' molodaya vozroditsya v nem I vozmestit poteri v starike. I v etom smysl, i zhizn', i krasota - Inache vremya prekratit svoj beg, I budut holod, mrak i pustota, I navsegda ischeznet chelovek. Dary prirody ne vsegda shchedry. Kto grub i zol, puskaj pogibnet on. I pust' umnozhit vse ee dary, Kto byl v izbytke imi nadelen. Izbrannik on - s nego priroda-mat' Dlya kopij izgotovila pechat'. Perevod V. Savina Pojdet na ubyl' zhizn' tvoya, no v syne Ona pribudet, stanet vse vidnej, I krov' mladuyu, chto daruesh' nyne, Ty nazovesh' svoej na sklone dnej. I v etom - krasota, i rost, i razum; Bez etogo - bezum'e, starost', krah. Kogda b takoj primer vse vzyali razom, Za kratkij vek ves' mir soshel by v prah. Te, chto Prirodoj sdelany nebrezhno, - Bezlikie, - pust' bez sleda umrut. No k izbrannym shchedra ona bezbrezhno, I dar sej umnozhat' - tvoj dolg i trud. Priroda kak pechat' tebya vayala, CHtob ottiskov ostavil ty nemalo. Perevod A. SHarakshane 12 When I do count the clock that tells the time, And see the brave day sunk in hideous night, When I behold the violet past prime, And sable curls all silvered o'er with white, When lofty trees I see barren of leaves, Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, And summer's green all girded up in sheaves Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard: Then of thy beauty do I question make That thou among the wastes of time must go, Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake, And die as fast as they see others grow, And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence Save breed to brave him when he takes thee hence. Kogda ya schitayu udary chasov, soobshchayushchih vremya, i vizhu, kak prekrasnyj den' pogruzhaetsya v otvratitel'nuyu noch'; kogda ya smotryu na otcvetayushchuyu fialku i na sobolinye kudri, splosh' poserebrennye sedinoj; kogda ya vizhu golymi, bez listvy, velichestvennye derev'ya, prezhde ukryvavshie ot zhary stado, i zelen' leta, vsyu uvyazannuyu v snopy, kotorye vezut na drogah, s beloj kolyuchej borodoj; togda ya zadayus' voprosom o tvoej krasote, _ponimaya_, chto ty dolzhen ischeznut' vmeste so _vsem_, chto unichtozheno vremenem, poskol'ku _vse_ prelesti i krasoty prenebregayut soboj i umirayut, kak tol'ko vidyat, chto podrastayut drugie, i nichto ot serpa Vremeni ne mozhet zashchitit', krome potomstva, kotoroe brosit emu vyzov, kogda ono zaberet tebya otsyuda. Kogda ya slyshu boj chasov, kogda YA vizhu den' v puti ko t'me unyloj; Kogda fialka vyanet i seda Iznanka chernyh lokonov u miloj; Kogda ya nablyudayu listopad I bezzashchitnost' kron; kogda osennij Lyut veter i pernatye letyat Na yug, - togda v polyah opustoshen'ya O krasote ya dumayu tvoej. Ona - zelenyj list, fialka, ptica. Tak znaj: zhestoki sroki! No sumej V sebya inogo perevoplotit'sya - I vremya, vstretiv syna tvoego, Ne sdelaet s toboyu nichego. Perevod R. Vinonena Kogda schitayu mernyj boj chasov I vizhu den' v preddverii nochnom, Fialki smert' v tishi gluhih lesov I lokon, ubelennyj serebrom, I golyh vetok chuvstvuyu oznob, Davavshih ten' stadam v iyul'skij znoj, Na pogrebal'nyh drogah vizhu snop S torchashchej kverhu zhestkoj borodoj, Togda ya zadayu sebe vopros, CHto stanet dal'she s krasotoj tvoej: Ved' hod veshchej stol' mnogoe unes, Osvobozhdaya put' dlya novyh dnej. Serp Vremeni tebya ne poshchadit, No tvoj naslednik Vremya pobedit. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Kogda chasov udary ya schitayu, Smotryu, kak tonut dni vo t'me nochej, I vizhu, kak fialka uvyadaet, Kak serebrom ukryta smol' kudrej; Kogda derev'ya goly, kak stolby, Hot' ukryvali stado v sil'nyj znoj, I zelen' leta svyazana v snopy, Svisaya s drog kolyuchej borodoj, - Kak ne podumat' o tvoej krase, Ved' chary s hodom vremeni projdut? Krasoty mira otrekutsya vse, Kogda drugie ih smenit' pridut. I net zashchity ot serpa togo, Za vychetom potomstva tvoego. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Kogda ya vizhu, slysha boj chasov, Naryadnyj den' v ob®yat'yah nochi mglistoj, Fialku bez vesennih lepestkov I chernyj lokon v kraske serebristoj. I roshchicu s opavsheyu listvoj Tam, gde v teni stada gulyali vvolyu, I snop na drogah s borodoj sedoj (Ego v poslednij raz vezut po polyu), - Togda ya strahom za tebya ob®yat: Tak Krasota tvoya navek umchitsya - Vsled za voshodom sleduet zakat, V kostre vremen zhizn' novaya roditsya. Nad kazhdym Vremya zaneset kosu - Ostav' potomstvo i spasi krasu. Perevod I. Fradkina Kogda ya vsled chasam schitayu vremya I vizhu mrak, chto pozhiraet svet, I smolyanyh kudrej poserebren'e, I rozu, chto, uvyav, ronyaet cvet, Kogda zamechu, kak redeyut krony, CHto stado v znoj skryvali pod shatrom, I leto lyazhet na voz pohoronnyj Belesym i shchetinistym snopom, - YA usomnyus': pred Vremenem, naverno, I krasota tvoya ne ustoit, Ved' prelesti zemli sebya otvergnut, Uvidev teh, kto ih smenit' speshit. Da, Vremya vse pozhnet, zashchity net nam, - No mnogo huzhe umeret' bezdetnym. Perevod T. SHabaevoj Kogda v chasah ya vremya nablyudayu I vizhu nochi ten' na yasnom dne, Fialku, chto, otcvetshi, obletaet, I smolyanye kudri v sedine; Glyazhu, kak roshcha dogola razdeta, CHto ten' davala stadu v letnij znoj, I kak vezut na drogah zelen' leta, V snopah, s kolyuchej beloj borodoj, - Togda ya znayu: dolzhen mir pokinut' I ty kogda-to, Vremenem gonim, Raz vsyudu prelest' i krasa pogibnut' Gotovy, chtoby dat' rasti drugim. Ot Vremeni s kosoyu net zashchity, - V potomstve lish' spasenie ishchi ty. Perevod A. SHarakshane 13 O that you were your self! but, love, you are No longer yours than you yourself here live; Against this coming end you should prepare, And^your sweet semblance to some other give: So should that beauty which you hold in lease Find no determination; then you were Your self again after yourself s decease, When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, Which husbandry in honour might uphold Against the stormy gusts of winter's day And barren rage of death's eternal cold? O, none but unthrifts: dear my love, you know You had a father, let your son say so. O, pust' by ty prinadlezhal sebe! {*} No, lyubov' moya, ty ne dol'she budesh' prinadlezhat' sebe, chem ty sam zhivesh' _na etom svete_ [zdes']. K neminuemomu koncu ty dolzhen gotovit'sya i svoj milyj obraz podarit' komu-to drugomu, chtoby krasota, kotoruyu ty poluchil v arendu, ne imela okonchaniya; togda ty stal by prinadlezhat' sebe snova posle svoej smerti, kogda tvoj milyj otprysk voplotit tvoj milyj oblik. Kto pozvolit takomu prekrasnomu domu prijti v upadok, kogda berezhnyj uhod mog by dostojno podderzhat' ego vopreki burnym vetram zimnego dnya i opustoshitel'nomu nastupleniyu vechnogo holoda smerti? O, nikto kak moty! Vozlyublennyj moj, pomni: u tebya byl otec; pust' tvoj syn skazhet to zhe. {* Drugoe vozmozhnoe tolkovanie: "pust' by ty ostavalsya soboj".} O, bud' soboj! Vsegda bud' sam soboj, No pomni, chto vsemu nastupit kraj, I k sroku smerti milyj obraz svoj Komu-nibud' drugomu peredaj. Tebe dana krasa i blagodat' V arendu, ne nadolgo. Esli ty Pokinesh' nas, dolzhny my uvidat' V tvoem potomke vse tvoi cherty. Kto razreshit sgnoit' svoj milyj krov, Besstrastnym budet i ne zashchitit Ego ot v'yuzhnyh, yarostnyh vetrov I holoda, gde smert' odna carit? Lish' sumasbrod! No ty, moj milyj, vse zhe Imel otca, pust' syn tvoj skazhet to zhe. Perevod A. Kuznecova Ty v etot mir yavilsya ne navechno, Tebe nedolgo krasovat'sya v nem. I pomni - krasota ne beskonechna, Ona tebe dana sud'boj vnaem. Potomku peredaj svoj oblik nezhnyj: Syn dolzhen krasotu arendovat', CHtob, izbezhav konchiny neizbezhnoj, Put' zhiznennyj pobedno prodolzhat'. Odumajsya! Kakoj zhe rastochitel' Ne zashchitit svoj dom ot zimnih v'yug I holodom Zimy svoyu obitel' V ruiny smerti prevratit, moj drug?! Ty znal otca, i pust' roditsya tot, Komu otcom ty stanesh' v svoj chered. Perevod I. Fradkina 14 Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy, But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, Or say with princes if it shall go well By oft predict that I in heaven find: But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, And, constant stars, in them I read such art As truth and beauty shall together thrive If from thy self to store thou wouldst convert: Or else of thee this I prognosticate, Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. Svoi suzhdeniya ya ne sobirayu so zvezd, i vse zhe, polagayu, ya vladeyu astronomiej, no ne tak, chtoby predskazyvat' udachu ili neudachu, chumu, golod ili to, kakimi budut vremena goda; takzhe ne umeyu ya delat' predskazanij na kratkie momenty _vremeni_, kazhdomu ukazyvaya [ego] grad, dozhd' ili veter, ili govorit', horosho li pojdut dela u gosudarej, po znamen'yam {*}, kotorye ya nahozhu v nebe. No ya svoe znanie vyvozhu iz tvoih glaz, i v etih neizmennyh zvezdah ya chitayu tu premudrost', chto pravda {**} i krasota budut vmeste procvetat', esli ty _otvlechesh'sya_ ot sebya _i_ obratish'sya k sohraneniyu _svoej krasoty_; inache vot chto ya tebe predskazyvayu: tvoj konec budet dlya pravdy i krasoty rokovym predelom. {* "By oft predict" - trudnaya dlya perevoda fraza, v kotoroj narechie "oft" (chasto) upotrebleno kak prilagatel'noe, a "predict" (predskazyvat') - kak sushchestvitel'noe. ** Zdes' i vo mnogih sluchayah dalee slovo "truth" primenitel'no k adresatu sonetov upotreblyaetsya v shirokom smysle polozhitel'nogo nravstvennogo nachala i mozhet interepretirovat'sya ne tol'ko kak "pravda", "istina", no takzhe kak "sovershenstvo", "dobrodetel'", "postoyanstvo", "vernost'".} Svoj vzor ya ne na zvezdy obrashchayu: Hot' zvezdochet ya, zvezdy ni k chemu, YA grozy, smuty, golod ne veshchayu I ne prorochu zasuhu, chumu; Ne znayu ya, kakoj poduet veter I vossedat' na trone zhrebij chej, Odnu ya znayu istinu na svete, CHto cherpayu ya iz tvoih ochej: Ty dolzhen obespechit' prodolzhen'e I Vernosti svoej, i Krasoty, CHtob vechno zhit' vekam na udivlen'e, Kogda nash mir navek pokinesh' ty. A inache, kogda tvoj chas prob'et, On Krasotu i Vernost' uneset. Perevod I. Fradkina Hot' ya ne doveryayus' zvezdam dal'nim, Znakoma astronomiya i mne, No ne takaya, chtob reshat' gadan'em, Kogda byt' moru, gladu i vojne. YA ne dayu na kazhdyj chas prognozy, Grom il' groza gryadet - ne znayu sam; Gde zhdut carej udachi i ugrozy, Ne v silah predskazat' po nebesam. Zato glaza tvoi mne znan'e dali, Po etim zvezdam ya mogu predrech': CHtob krasota i pravda procvetali, Ne dolzhen vtune ty sebya berech', Il' stanut pravde s krasotoyu nezhnoj Tvoi glaza mogiloj neizbezhnoj. Perevod A. SHarakshane 15 When I consider every thing that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky, Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory: Then the conceit of this inconstant stay Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay To change your day of youth to sullied night, And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I ingraft you new. Kogda ya dumayu o _tom, chto_ vse, chto proizrastaet, ostaetsya sovershennym tol'ko kratkij mig; chto eta ogromnaya scena predstavlyaet ne chto inoe, kak spektakli, kotorye, tajno vliyaya, tolkuyut zvezdy; kogda ya postigayu, chto rost lyudej, kak rastenij, pooshchryaet i ostanavlivaet to zhe samoe nebo: _vse oni_ tshcheslavny v svoem molodom soku, v vysshej tochke nachinaetsya ih upadok, i _zatem_ ih rascvet izglazhivaetsya iz pamyati; togda mysl' ob etom nepostoyannom prebyvanii _v mire_ delaet tebya samym bogatym molodost'yu v moih glazah, _kotorye vidyat, kak_ razrushitel'noe Vremya sporit s Uvyadaniem, _stremyas'_ prevratit' den' tvoej molodosti v mrachnuyu noch', i v reshitel'noj vojne s Vremenem, radi lyubvi k tebe, to, chto ono budet otbirat' u tebya, ya budu privivat' tebe snova. Kogda ya soznayu: vse, chto rastet, Uderzhit sovershenstvo lish' na mig, CHto mir - bol'shaya scena, gde idet Spektakl' po ukazan'yam zvezd nemyh, CHto lyudi, rasplodivshis', kak rasten'ya, ZHivut po manoven'yu teh zhe zvezd, Kichatsya sokom yunogo cveten'ya, K zabveniyu klonya poldnevnyj rost, To ya tebya okidyvayu vzglyadom, Sil'nej divyas' bogatstvu tvoemu, Togda kak Vremya ob ruku s Raspadom Vedut tvoj yunyj den' v gluhuyu t'mu. Unosit Vremya molodost' tvoyu, No, kak rostok, ya vnov' tebya priv'yu. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Vse, chto roslo, to pribavlyalo v roste, Na mig odin vo ves' vstavaya rost, No bylo pusto na bol'shom pomoste, Gde shli tajkom peregovory zvezd. Proizrastali lyudi, kak rasten'ya, I hvastali o podvigah svoih V zabvenii, na glubine paden'ya, A zvezdy vse nahvalivali ih. I, glyadya na shatanie pomostov, YA vizhu, kak ty molod i bogat Tam, gde zhivuyu plot' na golyj ostov Razmenivayut Vremya i Raspad. Tebe ya pomogu. Rasti upornej Tam, gde tebe pererubayut korni! Perevod V. Orla 16 But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time, And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens, yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this time's pencil or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live yourself in eyes of men: To give away yourself keeps yourself still, And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill. No pochemu ty bolee sil'nym sposobom ne povedesh' vojnu protiv etogo krovavogo tirana, Vremeni, i ne ukrepish' sebya protiv uvyadaniya sredstvami bolee blagoslovennymi, chem moi besplodnye stihi? Sejchas ty na vershine schastlivyh chasov, i mnogo devstvennyh sadov, eshche ne zasazhennyh, s blagochestivoj ohotoj vospriyali by tvoi zhivye cvety, gorazdo bolee pohozhie _na tebya_, chem tvoe risovannoe podobie. Tak _i_ dolzhny linii zhizni {*} _obnovlyat'_ tvoyu zhizn', _ved'_ ni kist' etogo vremeni {**}, ni moe uchenicheskoe pero, _ne sposobnye peredat'_ ni tvoego vnutrennego dostoinstva, ni vneshnej krasoty, ne mogut sdelat' tak, chtoby ty sam zhil v glazah lyudej. Otdavaya sebya, ty sohranish' sebya, i _tak_ ty dolzhen zhit', zapechatlennyj sobstvennym milym masterstvom. {* Trudnoe dlya ponimaniya mesto, dopuskayushchee razlichnye tolkovaniya. Vozmozhno, imeyutsya v vidu cherty detej, povtoryayushchie i "obnovlyayushchie" (repair) krasotu otca. ** Vozmozhno, zdes' imeetsya v vidu sovremennyj SHekspiru stil' portretnoj zhivopisi.} Tak pochemu zhe, esli tochit nozh Krovavyj despot Vremya, vrag zhivyh,