Ty luchshej oborony ne najdesh', CHem etot bednyj bezoruzhnyj stih? Naprasno sad v nevinnosti prirodnoj ZHdet zavyazi tvoih cvetushchih let, CHtoby rodilsya plod, s toboyu shodnyj Kak ni odin risovannyj portret. Ne sohranit ni Vremeni pero, Ni etot neumelyj karandash Tvoj yunyj oblik, pravdu i dobro, I ty sebya vekam ne peredash'. Umnozh' bogatstvo shchedrost'yu svoej I v syne sam sebya zapechatlej. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo No stih besploden moj. Navernyaka Est' put' blagoslovennej i vernee. CHtob Vremeni krovavaya ruka Ne tronula tebya - tak v boj smelee! Sejchas ty na vershine krasoty - Speshi sberech' svoj oblik ot raspada: ZHelan'e ot tebya vzrastit' cvety Est' u lyubogo devstvennogo sada. Pred etim divom nishch lyuboj portret, Nichto - moi bespomoshchnye stroki: Pust' sovershenstv tvoih ne gasnet svet - Ego hranit potomok tvoj dalekij. Tak vossozdaj svoj obraz nakonec: YAvi iskusstva svoego venec. Perevod I. Fradkina 17 Who will believe my verse in time to come If it were filled with your most high deserts? Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts. If I could write the beauty of your eyes, And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies; Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.' So should my papers (yellowed with their age) Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue, And your true rights be termed a poet's rage And stretched metre of an antique song: But were some child of yours alive that time, You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme. Kto poverit moim stiham v gryadushchie vremena, esli oni budut napolneny tvoimi vysshimi dostoinstvami, hotya, vidit nebo, oni vsego lish' grobnica, kotoraya skryvaet tvoyu zhizn' i ne pokazyvaet i poloviny tvoih kachestv? Esli by ya mog opisat' krasotu tvoih glaz i v novyh stihah perechislit' vse tvoi prelesti, gryadushchij vek skazal by: "|tot poet lzhet: takimi nebesnymi chertami nikogda ne byvali ochercheny zemnye lica". Poetomu moi rukopisi, pozheltevshie ot vremeni, byli by preziraemy, kak stariki, menee pravdivye, chem boltlivye, i to, chto tebe prichitaetsya po pravu, nazvali by _neobuzdannym_ voobrazheniem poeta ili pyshnym slogom antichnoj pesni; odnako, bud' v to vremya zhiv tvoj rebenok, ty zhil by vdvojne: v nem i v etih stihah. Spustya goda, poveryat li v moj stih, Kotoryj polon prelesti tvoej? - Hranilishche krasy, zaslug tvoih Ne luchshee, chem sklep il' mavzolej. Pust' opisal ya glaz chudesnyh svet, CHto v dobrote i svezhesti voznik, V inoe vremya skazhut: "Lgal poet, Pridav licu zemnomu bozhij lik". Mne kazhetsya, chto pozheltelyj list Vosprimut, slovno lepet starikov, Hot' skazhut, chto v pylu poet rechist I soblyudal razmery drevnih strof. No dozhivi tvoj syn do etih dnej, Ty b dvazhdy zhil - v nem i strofe moej. Perevod A. Kuznecova Ne primut li moj stih za nebylicu, Pust' ya tebya v nem verno opisal? Hot' vidit nebo, on - skorej grobnica I men'she poloviny pokazal. Kol' perechislyu mnogo divnyh chert, Glaz krasotu userdno vospevaya, Gryadushchee promolvit: "Lzhet poet - Nebesnyh lic u smertnyh ne byvaet". I budut pozheltevshie listy, Kak staryj vral', vseh boltunov prezrennej, Igroyu vdohnoven'ya stanesh' ty, Na vydumku bogatoj pesnej drevnej. No esli by ostavil ty potomka, Ty zhil by dvazhdy: v nem i etih strokah. Perevod V. Nikolaeva 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st, Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st. So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Sravnit' li mne tebya s letnim dnem? Ty krasivee i myagche [bolee umeren]: prelestnye majskie butony sotryasayutsya burnymi vetrami, a [arendnyj] srok leta slishkom kratok; poroj slishkom goryacho siyaet nebesnyj glaz, a chasto ego zolotoj cvet zatumanen, i vse prekrasnoe poroj perestaet byt' prekrasnym, lishaetsya svoej otdelki v silu sluchaya ili izmenchivosti prirody; no tvoe vechnoe leto ne potuskneet i ne utratit vladeniya krasotoj, kotoraya tebe prinadlezhit {*}, i Smert' ne budet hvastat', chto ty bluzhdaesh' v ee teni, kogda v vechnyh strokah ty budesh' rasti s vremenem. Poka lyudi dyshat i glaza vidyat, do teh por budet zhit' eto _moe proizvedenie_, i ono budet davat' zhizn' tebe. {* V originale - "thou ow'st"; po mneniyu issledovatelej, glagol "owe" zdes' sleduet chitat' kak "own" (vladet', obladat').} Tebya sravnyu li s letnim dnem? Edva li. Ty myagche i milee. Poglyadi: Vot v mae vetry lepestki sorvali, A vot mayachit osen' vperedi. Vot solnechnyj v lazuri glaz sverkaet, Vdrug tuchi zakryvayut nebesa... Takov zakon prirody: rascvetaet I uvyadaet vsyakaya krasa. No o svoem ty ne trevozh'sya lete. Smert' ne vostorzhestvuet nad toboj: Nachertannye mnoyu stroki eti Navek zapechatleyut obraz tvoj. ZHivi zhe v kazhdom novom pokolen'e, Pokuda sluh est' u lyudej i zren'e. Perevod V. Vasil'eva Mogu l' tebya ya upodobit' letu? Ty krashe, i krasa tvoya rovnej. Ved' ugrozhayut buri pervocvetu, I kratok srok zakonnyj letnih dnej. Siyayushchee oko v nebosvode To slishkom zhguche, to omracheno. Vse luchshee v izmenchivoj prirode Nesovershennym byt' obrecheno. No net predela tvoemu cveten'yu, Ty ne utratish' dara krasoty I pogloshchen ne budesh' Smerti ten'yu, Kol' v strochkah vechnyh voplotish'sya ty. Pokuda v lyudyah est' dusha i zren'e, Ty zhiv prebudesh' - kak moe tvoren'e. Perevod A. SHarakshane 19 Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st, And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, To the wide world and all her fading sweets; But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; Him in thy course untainted do allow For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, My love shall in my verse ever live young. Vsepozhirayushchee Vremya! Zatupi _kogti_ [lapy] l'va i zastav' zemlyu poglotit' ee sobstvennyj dragocennyj priplod; vyrvi ostrye zuby iz pasti svirepogo tigra i sozhgi dolgovechnuyu feniks v ee krovi; pronosyas', tvori radostnye i mrachnye vremena goda; delaj, chto pozhelaesh', bystronogoe Vremya, so vsem etim mirom i ego bleknushchimi prelestyami. No ya zapreshchayu tebe odno, samoe uzhasnoe, prestuplenie: svoimi chasami ne izrezh' prekrasnoe chelo moego vozlyublennogo, ne nacherti na nem linij svoim drevnim perom. Ego, v svoem bege, ostav' nevredimym kak obrazec krasoty dlya budushchih lyudej. Vprochem, delaj samoe hudshee, drevnee Vremya: nesmotrya na tvoj vred, moj vozlyublennyj v moih stihah budet vechno zhit' molodym. O Vremya, zatupi zhe lapy l'vov; Puskaj zemlya s®est sobstvennyj priplod, I tigr lishitsya rezhushchih klykov, I Feniks pust' v krovi sebya sozhzhet. Za urozhaem zasuhu vedi I delaj vse, chto hochesh', probegaya, S ogromnym mirom ty, no greh odin, Odin lish' greh tebe ya zapreshchayu. Ty ne risuj u druga na chele SHtrihov svoim istochennym perom. Pust' yunym on prebudet na zemle I krasoty predstanet obrazcom. A esli ty ne slyshish' slov moih, To yunym sohranit ego moj stih. Perevod V. Nikolaeva O, Vremya alchnoe! Vse sokrushi: Veli zemle pozhrat', chto rodila, L'vu kogti zatupi, zubov lishi I feniks vechnuyu sozhgi dotla. Za letom zimu skoruyu prishli. CHto hochesh' s mirom delaj, razori Vse ukrashen'ya bleklye zemli, Lish' hudshego iz zol ne sotvori: Na lbu lyubimom za chertoj chertu Pust' ne provodit drevnij tvoj rezec, CHtob nevredimoj druga krasotu Ostavit' dlya lyudej kak obrazec. A vprochem, koznyam vopreki tvoim V stihah moih on budet molodym. Perevod A. SHarakshane 20 A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. And for a woman wert thou first created, Till Nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. But since she pricked thee out for women's pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. Licom zhenshchiny, napisannym rukoj samoj Prirody, obladaesh' ty, gospodin-gospozha moej strasti; nezhnym serdcem zhenshchiny, odnako neznakomym s nepostoyanstvom, kotoroe v obychae u obmanshchic - zhenshchin; glazami bolee yarkimi, chem u nih, no bez ih obmannoj igry, krasyashchimi [zolotyashchimi] lyuboj predmet, na kotoryj oni glyadyat; muzhskoj stat'yu, kotoraya vse stati prevoshodit {*}, pohishchaet vzory muzhchin i porazhaet dushi zhenshchin. Sperva ty sozdavalsya, chtoby stat' zhenshchinoj, no zatem Priroda, tvorya tebya, vospylala k tebe lyubov'yu i, _zanyavshis'_ dobavleniem, otnyala tebya u menya - dobaviv nechto mne vovse ne nuzhnoe; no poskol'ku ona prednaznachila {**} tebya dlya udovol'stviya zhenshchin, pust' budet moej tvoya lyubov', a ispol'zovanie {***} tvoej lyubvi - ih sokrovishchem. {* Spornoe mesto. Sushchestvitel'noe "hue", krome preobladayushchej v sovremennom anglijskom yazyke gruppy znachenij "cvet", "ottenok", "ton", vo vremena SHekspira moglo ispol'zovat'sya takzhe v znacheniyah "forma", "blagorodnaya osanka", "graciya". Glagol "control" (v forme "controlling") mozhet vyrazhat' ideyu prevoshodstva, dominirovaniya, no mozhet byt' istolkovan v smysle vklyucheniya chastej celym; v poslednem sluchae vozmozhen perevod: "ty nadelen muzhskoj stat'yu, v kotoroj voploshcheny vse luchshie muzhskie i zhenskie cherty". ** V podlinnike ispol'zovana glagol'naya konstrukciya "prick out" v znachenii "vybrat'", "otmetit'", s igroj na slove "prick", kotoroe s XVI v. i po nastoyashchee vremya ispol'zuetsya kak prostorechnoe nazvanie muzhskogo organa. *** Zdes' "thy love's use" (ispol'zovanie tvoej lyubvi) mozhno ponyat' kak fizicheskuyu lyubov' v otlichie ot duhovnoj, na kotoruyu pretenduet poet, ili kak potomstvo - rezul'tat "ispol'zovaniya" lyubvi s "pribyl'yu".} Tvoj lik, moj gospodin i gospozha, Pisala kak dlya zhenshchiny Priroda, No, kak u zhenshchin, myagkaya dusha Ot vechnoj ih kapriznosti svobodna. Tvoi glaza pravdivej i yasnee I zolotyat vse to, na chto glyadyat. Nachalami oboimi vladeya, I zhenskij, i muzhskoj ty manish' vzglyad. I zhenshchinoj ty sozdan byl snachala, No ne mogla Priroda ne vlyubit'sya I u menya tu zhenshchinu ukrala, Dobaviv to, chto mne ne prigoditsya, CHtob mog ty zhenshchin odaryat' blazhenstvom I odaryal menya lyubov'yu zhenskoj. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Licom prekrasnoj zhenshchine podoben, Ty car'-carica dum i chuvstv moih, A serdcem dev nezhnej, no ne sposoben K izmene, chto v obychae u nih. Glaza, chej svet kak budto darit zlatom, Igry fal'shivoj zhenskoj lisheny, A stan muzhskoj vseh ochertanij ladom Plenyaet vzor i muzha, i zheny. Tebya Priroda zhenshchinoj lepila; Zatem, sama zhe strast'yu vospylav, Nenuzhnym dobavlen'em nadelila I tem menya lishila vsyakih prav. I koli tak, bud' zhenshchinam usladoj, A mne lyubov' svoyu ostav' nagradoj. Perevod A. SHarakshane 21 So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use, And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. O let me, true in love, but truly write, And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air: Let them say more that like of hearsay well, I will not praise that purpose not to sell. YA ne pohozh na _teh poetov, ch'yu_ Muzu vdohnovlyaet na stihi raskrashennaya krasota, kotorye samo nebo ispol'zuyut dlya ukrasheniya i vse prekrasnoe perechislyayut _v svyazi_ so svoimi vozlyublennymi, tvorya sochetaniya gordyh sravnenij s solncem i lunoj, s perlami zemli i morya, s pervocvetom aprelya i vsem tem redkostnym, - chto zaklyucheno v etom ogromnom nebesnom kupole. O, pozvol'te mne, istinno lyubyashchemu, i pisat' istinno; a potom, pover'te, predmet moej lyubvi krasotoj ne ustupit lyubomu, kto rozhden mater'yu, hotya i ne tak blestyashch, kak te zolotye svechi, chto ustanovleny v nebe. Pust' bol'she govoryat te, kto lyubit molvu, ya zhe ne budu rashvalivat' to, chem ne nameren torgovat'. So mnoj sovsem ne tak, kak s Muzoj toj, Kotoraya v izyskannyh tvoren'yah, Risovannoj prel'stivshis' krasotoj, Sam nebosvod beret dlya ukrashen'ya; CHto nizhet pary gordye sravnenij, Gde solnce, i luna, i zhemchug morya, Bogatstva nedr, i pervocvet vesennij, Krase lyuboj svoej krasoyu vtorya. Pozvol'te mne lyubit', no i ne lgat': Krasiv, kak deti materej zemnyh, Moj drug, no ne sposoben zasverkat', Kak v nebe sotni svechek zolotyh. I ya hvalit' ne sobirayus' vam Togo, kogo voveki ne prodam. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Ne tak sluzhu ya Muze, kak poety, CHto, krasotoj mishurnoj vdohnovyas', Ej sami nebesa vpletut v kuplety, So vsem prekrasnym ej pripishut svyaz' I narekut, v sravnen'i gordelivom, Lunoj i solncem, perlom nedr i vod, Aprel'skim cvetom - vsyakim redkim divom, CHto zaklyuchaet etot nebosvod. A mne v stihah, kak i v lyubvi, dorozhe Pravdivost'. I pover'te: moj predmet Prekrasen tak, kak chelovek byt' mozhet, Hot' i ne yarche solnca i komet. Drugie pust' shumyat, a ya ne slavlyu Togo, chto na prodazhu ya ne stavlyu. Perevod A. SHarakshane 22 My glass shall not persuade me I am old, So long as youth and thou are of one date, But when in thee time's furrows I behold, Then look I death my days should expiate: For all that beauty that doth cover thee Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me. How can I then be elder than thou art? O therefore, love, be of thyself so wary As I not for myself but for thee will, Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary As tender nurse her babe from faring ill: Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again. Moe zerkalo ne ubedit menya, chto ya star, poka yunost' i ty - odnogo vozrasta, no kogda ya uvizhu u tebya borozdy vremeni, togda, nadeyus', smert' polozhit konec moim dnyam, tak kak vsya ta krasota, kotoraya tebya oblachaet, est' ne chto inoe, kak prekrasnoe odeyanie moego serdca, zhivushchego v tvoej grudi, kak tvoe v moej; tak kak zhe ya mogu byt' starshe tebya? Poetomu, lyubov' moya, beregi sebya, kak i ya budu _berech' sebya_ - ne radi sebya, a radi tebya, nosya v _sebe_ tvoe serdce, kotoroe ya budu oberegat', kak zabotlivaya nyan'ka - ditya, ot vsyakogo zla. Ne rasschityvaj poluchit' svoe serdce, esli moe budet ubito: ty dal ego mne ne dlya togo, chtoby ya ego vozvrashchal. CHto star ya, ne dokazhut zerkala, Poka vesna - rovesnica tvoya. No esli Vremya milogo chela Kosnetsya, smert' svoyu uvizhu ya. Ved' blesk tvoej chudesnoj krasoty - Lish' vidimyj pokrov moej dushi. I kak mogu ya starshe byt', chem ty, Kol' dvum serdcam dano drug v druge zhit'? Poetomu bud' berezhnym s soboyu, Tak kak i ya s toboj, moya dusha. I serdce ya tvoe ot zla ukroyu, Kak zhenshchina, chto nyanchit malysha. A kol' moe pogibnet bezvozvratno, Svoe uzhe ty ne voz'mesh' obratno. Perevod V. Nikolaeva CHto star ya, ne dokazhet mne zercalo, Pokuda s yunost'yu ty let odnih, No, uvidav, chto vremya nachertalo Tebe morshchiny, smert' najdu ya v nih. Vladeyu serdcem ya tvoim po pravu, Ved' i moe zhivet v tvoej grudi, Prisvoiv krasoty tvoej opravu; Tak kak zhe mne byt' starym, posudi? Poetomu, lyubov' moya, proshu ya: Ty beregi sebya; ya zh dal obet Sebya berech', chtob serdce, chto noshu ya, Kak nyan'ka dobraya, hranit' ot bed. Kol' budet serdce, chto v tebe, ubito, Tvoe ostanetsya vo mne sokryto. Perevod A. SHarakshane 23 As an imperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put besides his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart; So I, for fear of trust, forget to say The perfect ceremony of love's rite, And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might: O let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed. O learn to read what silent love hath writ: To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. Kak plohoj akter na scene, ot straha vybivayushchijsya iz roli, ili nekoe svirepoe sushchestvo, perepolnennoe yarost'yu, u kotorogo ot izbytka moshchi slabeet sobstvennoe serdce; tak ya, robeyushchij ot otvetstvennosti, zabyvayu proiznesti sovershennye formuly lyubovnogo rituala, i kazhetsya, chto lyubov' vo mne oslabevaet, podavlennaya bremenem sobstvennoj moshchi. O pust' moi knigi {*} zamenyat mne krasnorechie i stanut nemymi predvestnikami moego govoryashchego serdca [grudi], molyashchimi o lyubvi i vzyskuyushchimi nagrady bolee, chem yazyk, kotoryj bol'she vyskazal {**}. O, nauchis' chitat' to, chto napisala molchalivaya lyubov': umenie slyshat' glazami - chast' tonkogo uma lyubvi. {* Nekotorye issledovateli schitayut, chto "books" (knigi) v stroke 9 - eto opechatka i sleduet chitat' "looks" (vzglyady, vyrazhenie lica). ** Vozmozhno, zdes' soderzhitsya namek na drugogo poeta, posvyashchavshego stihi tomu zhe adresatu. Tema takogo "poeta-sopernika" neodnokratno poyavlyaetsya v bolee pozdnih sonetah k Drugu.} Kak budto neumelyj licedej, CHto ot ispuga roli nit' teryaet, Kak zver', chto, v gneve raspalyas' sil'nej, Izbytkom sily serdce oslablyaet, Tak ya, boyas' sfal'shivit', pozabyl Lyubovnoj ceremonii obryad, I strast' v moej grudi lishilas' sil, Poskol'ku strast'yu slishkom ya bogat. Puskaj zhe o lyubvi mol'bu zavodit Bezglasnoe posrednichestvo knig, Slova krasnorechivye nahodit Sil'nej, chem sdelal bojkij tot yazyk. Prochti slova bezmolvnye moi. Ochami slushat' - vysshij dar lyubvi. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Kak inogda plohoj akter ot straha Ne mozhet roli vymolvit' slova, A gnevnaya natura ot razmaha Strastej svoih stanovitsya slaba, Tak mne ot chuvstv nevmogotu byvaet Rechej lyubovnyh soblyudat' ustav; I kazhetsya togda, chto ubyvaet Lyubov', ot sily sobstvennoj ustav. Tak pust' zhe vyrazit tetrad' nemaya Vse to, chto govorit v moej grudi, - Pust' molit o lyubvi; i, ej vnimaya, Menya ty bol'she vseh voznagradi. Umej ponyat', chto skazano bez zvuka. Glazami slyshat' - vot lyubvi nauka. Perevod A. SHarakshane 24 Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, And perspective it is best painter's art. For through the painter must you see his skill To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with, thine eyes. Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee. Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart. Moi glaza, upodobyas' hudozhniku, zapechatleli oblik tvoej krasoty na skrizhali moego serdca; moe telo sluzhit ej ramoj, a perspektiva - iskusstvo luchshih hudozhnikov, tak kak cherez hudozhnika nuzhno videt' ego masterstvo {*}, chtoby najti, gde pomeshchen tvoj istinnyj obraz, vsegda visyashchij v masterskoj moej grudi, okna kotoroj zastekleny tvoimi glazami {**}. Posmotri, kakie dobrye uslugi okazyvayut glaza glazam: moi glaza izobrazili tvoj oblik, a tvoi dlya menya - okna moej grudi, cherez kotorye solnce lyubit zaglyadyvat', chtoby vnutri videt' tebya. Odnako iskusstvu glaz ne hvataet [takoj] mudrosti: oni risuyut tol'ko to, chto vidyat, ne znaya serdca. {* Trudnoe dlya istolkovaniya mesto. Vozmozhno, imeetsya v vidu, chto glaz, kak ob®ektiv kamery-obskury, sozdaet obraz vozlyublennogo v dushe [grudi] poeta, v sootvetstvii s zakonami perspektivy. ** Potomu chto, kak skazano v sonete 22, "moe serdce nahoditsya v tvoej grudi".} Risuet glaz na serdce obraz tvoj, A telo sluzhit ramoj: slovno divo, Portret v moej grudi, kak v masterskoj - Iskusstvo vozvyshaet perspektiva. Vdvoem s toboj my sozdaem portret: Moi glaza tebya narisovali, A skvoz' tvoi - kak v okna, l'etsya svet, I holst visit v grudi, kak v svetlom zale. V soglasii dve pary glaz zhivut, Risuya i risunok osveshchaya. Svet rvetsya v grud'! O, kak ego tam zhdut - Portret sverkaet, solnce voshishchaya. No vzor moj v serdce dostupa lishen - Lish' to risuet glaz, chto vidit on. Perevod I. Fradkina Moi glaza hudozhnikami stali: Holstom moe vzyav serdce, ramoj - grud', Oni portret tvoej krasy sozdali, Gde perspektiva - zhivopisi sut'. Razdvinuv ploti tesnye granicy, Tvoj obraz vernyj dast uzret' ona. On v masterskoj dushi moej hranitsya, CHto svetom glaz tvoih osveshchena. Tak trudyatsya glaza glaz milyh radi: Moi glaza risuyut oblik tvoj, Tvoi zhe - okna; solnce, vnutr' glyadya, V moej dushe lyubuetsya toboj. No zhivopiscy eti neveliki, Ne znaya serdca, pishut tol'ko liki. Perevod A. SHarakshane 25 Let those who are in favour with their stars Of public honour and proud titles boast, Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, Unlooked for joy in that I honour most. Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread But as the marigold at the sun's eye, And in themselves their pride lies buried, For at a frown they in their glory die. The painful warrior famoused for fight, After a thousand victories once foiled, Is from the book of honour rased quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toiled: Then happy I that love and am beloved Where I may not remove, nor be removed. Pust' te, k komu blagosklonny ih zvezdy, hvastayut pochestyami i gordymi titulami, togda kak ya, komu fortuna zakryla put' k takomu torzhestvu, bezvestnyj, nahozhu radost' v tom, chto pochitayu bol'she vsego. Lyubimcy velikih gosudarej raspuskayut svoi prekrasnye lepestki, sovsem kak nogotki pod vzglyadom solnca, i v nih zhe sokryta ih gordynya, tak kak ot _pervogo_ hmurogo vzglyada ih slava umiraet. Utomlennyj _ratnymi trudami_ voin, proslavlennyj v bitvah, posle tysyachi pobed odnazhdy poterpevshij neudachu, vycherkivaetsya sovsem iz knigi chesti, i zabyvaetsya vse ostal'noe, radi chego on trudilsya. No schastliv ya, lyubyashchij i lyubimyj; ot etogo ya ne mogu otkazat'sya, i menya nel'zya etogo lishit'. Pust' te, k komu svetila blagosklonny, Voznosyat chest' svoyu i titul slavnyj. A ya, Fortunoj etim obdelennyj, Obradovan nezrimo chest'yu glavnoj. Puskaj vremenshchiki vladyk velikih Cvetut, kak nogotki pod vzorom solnca. Nahmuryatsya, pomerknut solnca bliki, I vsej ih slave umirat' pridetsya. Ustavshij voin, polkovodec nekij, Razbityj posle tysyachi pobed, Iz knigi chesti vycherknut naveki, I pro nego uzhe ne pomnit svet. YA schastliv byt' lyubimym i lyubit', Ved' eto nevozmozhno izmenit'. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Pust' tot, komu blagovolyat svetila, Vysokim titulam i slave rad, A ya, kogo fortuna obdelila, Imeyu to, chto vyshe vseh nagrad. Lyubimec gosudarya rascvetaet Narcissom gordym v solnechnyh luchah, No nad ego rascvetom smert' vitaet: Sokrylos' solnce, i cvetok zachah. I esli voin, sto pobed dobyvshij, Okazhetsya odnazhdy pobezhden, Ves' ratnyj trud ego zabudut byvshij, Besslav'em budet on voznagrazhden. A ya - schastlivec lyubyashchij, lyubimyj, I eto titul moj neotdelimyj. Perevod A. SHarakshane 26 Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, To thee I send this written embassage To witness duty, not to show my wit; Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, But that I hope some good conceit of thine In thy soul's thought (all naked) will bestow it, Till whatsoever star that guides my moving Points on me graciously with fair aspect, And puts apparel on my tottered loving, To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee, Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me. Vlastelin [lord] {*} moej lyubvi, k kotoromu dolgom vassala menya krepko privyazali tvoi dostoinstva, k tebe ya shlyu eto pis'mennoe posol'stvo, chtoby zasvidetel'stvovat' svoj dolg _uvazheniya_, a ne vykazat' ostrotu uma, - dolg stol' velikij, chto _v sravnenii_ um, takoj bednyj, kak moj, mozhet pokazat'sya golym, ne imeya slov dlya ego vyrazheniya, no ya nadeyus', chto kakoj-nibud' dobroj mysl'yu v glubine svoej dushi ty prikroesh' ego nagotu do toj pory, kogda ta zvezda, chto napravlyaet moj put', posmotrit na menya milostivo, v blagopriyatnom raspolozhenii, i odenet moyu istrepavshuyusya lyubov' v _krasivye_ odezhdy, chtoby pokazat' menya dostojnym tvoego dragocennogo uvazheniya. Togda, vozmozhno, ya osmelyus' hvalit'sya, kak ya tebya lyublyu, a do togo ne yavlyus' k tebe na ispytanie. {* Vozmozhno, zdes' imeet mesto igra smyslov i slovo "lord" upotrebleno kak v shirokom smysle "vlastelin", tak i v uzkom smysle titula, - esli, kak schitaet bol'shinstvo issledovatelej, adresat sonetov byl molodym aristokratom.} O lord moej lyubvi! Kak tvoj vassal, Kotorogo svyazali dolga uzy, K tebe goncami stroki ya poslal, CHtob pokazat' svoj dolg - ne yarkost' Muzy. Dolg tak velik, chto um neschastnyj moj Ne syshchet slov, chtob vyrazit' ego, No veryu ya, chto budet stih nagoj Odet igroyu chuvstva tvoego, - Poka zvezda kakaya-to menya K izyskannoj krase ne privedet, Lyubvi lohmot'ya na kamzol smenya, CHtob byl dostoin ya tvoih shchedrot. Togda i pohvalyus' moej lyubov'yu, A do teh por lico skryvayu vnov' ya. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Lyubvi moej vladetel'nyj milord, CH'im sovershenstvam ya obyazan dan'yu! Svoim sluzhen'em, a ne slogom, gord, YA pribegayu k etomu poslan'yu. Tak veliko sluzhen'e, chto moj slog Pokazhetsya nagim i bespoleznym. YA upovayu, chtob ukryt'sya mog Tvoim on ponimaniem lyubeznym! Kogda zhe zvezdy, chto sud'bu tvoryat, Mne yavyat dobroe raspolozhen'e, Svoej lyubvi smogu ya dat' naryad, CHto i tvoe zasluzhit uvazhen'e. Togda skazhu ya, kak tebya lyublyu, A do pory tvoj sluh ne oskorblyu. Perevod A. SHarakshane 27 Weary with toil, I baste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey m my head, To work my mind, when body's work's expired; For then my thoughts (from far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see; Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel (hung in ghastly night), Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. Ustavshij ot tyagot _puti_, ya speshu v postel', _sulyashchuyu_ zhelannyj otdyh chlenam, utomlennym dorogoj, no togda nachinaetsya puteshestvie v moej golove, kotoroe utomlyaet moj um, kogda trudy tela zakonchilis', tak kak togda moi mysli iz daleka, gde ya nashel pristanishche, otpravlyayutsya v userdnoe palomnichestvo k tebe i zastavlyayut moi slipayushchiesya glaza shiroko raskryt'sya, glyadya v temnotu, kotoruyu vidyat slepye, no voobrazhaemoe zrenie moej dushi predstavlyaet moemu nevidyashchemu vzoru tvoj prizrak, kotoryj, kak dragocennyj kamen', vitayushchij v mrachnoj nochi, delaet chernuyu noch' prekrasnoj, a ee staroe lico - molodym. Vot tak dnem - moi chleny, a noch'yu - um radi tebya, i radi menya samogo, ne znayut pokoya. Ustav s dorogi, toroplyus' v krovat' - Dat' peredyshku utomlennoj ploti. No ya i lezha v put' skachu opyat', I razum zamenyaet plot' v rabote. I dumy - iz kraev, gde moj nochleg, - V palomnichestvo hodyat za toboj, I, ne somknuv slipayushchihsya vek, YA vizhu t'mu, chto vidit i slepoj. Odnim voobrazheniem, bez glaz, Tvoyu vo t'me ya razlichayu ten', I, v toj nochi sverkaya, kak almaz, Ty prevrashchaesh' noch' v prekrasnyj den'. Dnem telo, noch'yu razum bednyj moj Nikak ne mogut obresti pokoj. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Okonchiv puteshestvie dnevnoe, ZHelannyj otdyh telu dat' mogu, No tol'ko lyagu, stranstvie inoe V bessonnom nachinaetsya mozgu: Gde b ni pristal ya, mysli-piligrimy K tebe svoj nachinayut dal'nij put'. YA provozhayu ih v polet nezrimyj I vek tyazhelyh ne mogu somknut'. Zato dushi vsevidyashchie ochi, Nezryachemu, mne daryat obraz tvoj. On svetitsya almazom v chernoj nochi, Potemki napolnyaya krasotoj. Tak dnem truzhu ya telo, noch'yu - razum, Pokoya nas dvoih lishaya razom. Perevod A. SHarakshane 28 How can I then return in happy plight That am debarr