ed the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eased by night, But day by night and night by day oppressed; And each (though enemies to either's reign) Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee. I tell the day to please him thou art bright, And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven; So flatter I the swart-complexioned night, When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even: But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer, And night doth nightly make griefs' strength seem stronger. Kak zhe mne togda vernut'sya v blagopoluchnoe sostoyanie, esli mne otkazano v blage otdyha - kogda tyagoty dnya ne oblegchayutsya noch'yu, no, _naoborot_, noch' usilivaet dnevnoj gnet, a den' - nochnoj, i oba, hotya kazhdyj yavlyaetsya vragom vlasti drugogo, pozhimayut ruki, soglashayas' muchit' menya, odin - tyagotami puti, a drugaya - _zastavlyaya_ sokrushat'sya, chto chem bol'she etih tyagot, tem bol'she ya otdalyayus' ot tebya? YA govoryu dnyu, chtoby ugodit' emu, chto ty _tak_ svetel, _chto_ okazyvaesh' emu lyubeznost', _zamenyaya ego_, kogda tuchi zatmevayut nebo; tak i smuglolikoj nochi ya l'shchu, _govorya, chto_, kogda blestyashchie zvezdy ne mercayut, ty ozaryaesh' vecher. No den' kazhdyj den' prodlevaet moi pechali, a noch' kazhduyu noch' vse usilivaet moyu tosku. No kak zhe snova schast'e ya najdu, Kogda pokoj davno otbroshen proch', I son ne oblegchaet mne bedu, Noch' den' tiranit, den' tiranit noch'? I oba vmeste, hot' oni vragi, Tak mnogo mne stradanij prinesli, On - napravlyaya vdal' moi shagi, Ona - toskoj o tom, chto ty vdali. YA govoryu, starayas' im pol'stit', CHto dnyu pomozhet svet prekrasnyj tvoj, CHto yarko mozhesh' ty pozolotit' Bezzvezdnyj nebosvod vo t'me nochnoj. No chto ni den', toska moya dlinnee, I noch' ot nochi bol' moya sil'nee. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo I kak zhe mne vernut' blagopoluch'e, Kogda celitel'-son ko mne nejdet, Kogda za tyazhkim dnem i noch' ne luchshe, I noch', kak den', a den', kak noch', gnetet? Hotya drug drugu ih vrazhdebny carstva, Menya izvodyat vmeste den' i noch': Terzayus' noch'yu, chto menya mytarstva Dnevnye ot tebya unosyat proch'. YA dnyu pol'stil - skazal, chto lik tvoj svetit Emu pod stat', kol' v tuchah nebesa; A nochi - chto ne bud' i zvezd na svete, Vse ozarit za nih tvoya krasa. No den' moyu vse umnozhaet muku, A noch' vse gorshe delaet razluku. Perevod A. SHarakshane 29 When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state (Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate; For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. Kogda, v prezrenii u Fortuny i v glazah lyudej, ya v polnom odinochestve oplakivayu moe polozhenie otverzhennogo i trevozhu gluhoe nebo tshchetnymi mol'bami, i smotryu na sebya i proklinayu svoyu sud'bu, mechtaya upodobit'sya tomu, kto bogache nadezhdoj, pohodit' na odnogo vneshnost'yu, na drugogo - obiliem druzej, zhelaya obladat' iskusstvom etogo i krugozorom togo, - menee vsego dovol'stvuyas' tem, chem ya bolee vsego nadelen; sredi etih myslej, pochti preziraya sebya, ya vdrug dumayu o tebe, i togda moya dusha, podobno zhavoronku, na zare podnimayushchemusya s ugryumoj zemli, poet gimny u nebesnyh vorot, tak kak mysl' o tvoej dragocennoj lyubvi daet takoe bogatstvo, chto ya by pognushalsya pomenyat'sya svoim polozheniem s korolyami. Kogda, gonimyj vzglyadami lyudej, S samoj sud'boj ya chuvstvuyu razlad, I nebo gluho k zhalobe moej, I ni sebe, ni zhizni ya ne rad. I zhit' hotel by, kak zhivet drugoj, Dostojnoj druzhboj udivlyaya svet, A tot - umom, a etot - krasotoj, I tol'ko dlya menya nadezhdy net. Togda gnetet menya dosada zlaya, No vspomnyu o tebe - i zhizni rad, I, zhavoronkom utrennim vzletaya, Dusha moya poet u rajskih vrat. Na slavu i bogatstva korolej Ne promenyal by ya lyubvi tvoej. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo. Kogda, ne mil ni lyudyam, ni fortune, Otverzhennyj, ya plachu nad soboj I k nebesam gluhim vzyvayu vtune, Mechtaya upodobit'sya sud'boj Schastlivcam, chto nadezhdami bogaty, Komu dany, na radost' ih druz'yam, Talant, i vneshnost', i uma palaty, - Zabyv o tom, chem tak bogat ya sam; Sebya zhaleyu, chut' ne preziraya, No vspomnyu o tebe - dusha v polet Stremitsya ot zemli k vorotam raya I, budto zhavoronok, pesn' poet. V tvoej lyubvi takaya mne nagrada, CHto mne i carskoj uchasti ne nado. Perevod A. SHarakshane 30 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow) For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th'expense of many a vanished sight; Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before: But if the while I think on thee (dear friend) All losses are restored, and sorrows end. Kogda na _sudebnye_ zasedaniya bezmolvnyh zavetnyh myslej ya vyzyvayu vospominaniya o proshedshem, ya vzdyhayu o mnogom, k chemu tshchetno stremilsya, i, _dumaya_ o staryh bedah, zanovo oplakivayu rastratu moih luchshih let. Togda moi glaza, neprivychnye k vlage, byvayut zatopleny _slezami_ po dragocennym druz'yam, skrytym v vechnoj nochi smerti; ya oplakivayu zanovo davno izzhitye muki lyubvi i stenayu o mnogom, chto bylo, no ischezlo; togda ya goryuyu o prezhnih gorestyah i tyazhko, bedu za bedoj, povtoryayu pechal'nyj schet prezhnih stradanij, zanovo oplachivaya ego, kak budto on ne byl oplachen ran'she. No esli v eto vremya ya podumayu o tebe, dorogoj drug, to vse poteri vospolnyayutsya i pechali prohodyat. Na sessiyu bezmolvnogo suda Povestkoj vyzyvayu ten' bylogo. V ume utrat prohodit chereda, I prezhnej skorb'yu muchayus' ya snova. Ne znavshij slez, ya slezy l'yu svoi O teh druz'yah, chto skryla Smerti noch'. Svezha toska pogashennoj lyubvi I vse kartiny, chto umchalis' proch'. I ya skorblyu o tom, chego uzh net, Oplachivayu, vybivshis' iz sil, Pechal'nyj schet moih minuvshih bed, Kotoryj ya davno uzh oplatil. Na esli vspomnyu o tebe, moj drug, Pechali eti ischezayut vdrug. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Kogda pered sudom moih razdumij Prohodit dnej minuvshih chereda, Mne zhal' vsego, chego iskal ya vtune, I muchit v proshlom kazhdaya beda. Togda glaza, kotorym slezy vnove, Ih l'yut o teh, kto vechnoj noch'yu vzyat, O davnih ranah umershej lyubovi, O vsem bylom, chto ne vernut' nazad. I, pamyat' vorosha, ya stony mnozhu, Kak gorestej prozhityh pereskaz, Ih schet pechal'nyj dlya sebya itozhu I zanovo plachu, kak v pervyj raz. No tol'ko o tebe, moj drug, ya vspomnyu, Kak vse utraty tyazhkie vospolnyu. Perevod A. SHarakshane 31 Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, Which I by lacking have supposed dead, And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, And all those friends which I thought buried. How many a holy and obsequious tear Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye, As interest of the dead; which now appear But things removed that hidden in thee lie! Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, Who all their parts of me to thee did give; That due of many now is thine alone. Their images I loved I view in thee, And thou (all they) hast all the all of me. Tvoya grud' _mne_ doroga vsemi serdcami, kotorye ya, buduchi lishen ih, polagal mertvymi; tam carstvuet lyubov', so vsem, chto ej prinadlezhit, i vsemi druz'yami, kotoryh ya schital pohoronennymi. Kak mnogo svyashchennyh i pochtitel'nyh slez glubokaya predannaya [religioznaya] lyubov' pohitila iz moih glaz, kak procenty mertvym, kotorye, kazhetsya, tol'ko peremestilis' i teper' sokryty v tebe! Ty - mogila, v kotoroj zhivet pogrebennaya lyubov', uveshannaya trofeyami moih ushedshih vozlyublennyh druzej, kotorye vse svoi prava na menya peredali tebe, i to, chto prinadlezhalo mnogim, teper' tol'ko tvoe. Ih lyubimye obrazy ya vizhu v tebe, i ty - vmeste so vsemi nimi - celikom vladeesh' mnoj. V tvoej grudi - priyut dlya vseh serdec, Kogda-to milyh serdcu moemu. Moya lyubov' tam carstvennyj zhilec, A s nej druz'ya, soshedshie vo t'mu. Kak mnogo slez obil'nyh i svyatyh, O gibeli bezvremennoj skorbya, YA molcha prolil o druz'yah moih, Voshedshih, kak v ubezhishche, v tebya! Ty - sklep lyubvi, kotoraya zhiva. Venkami proshlyh let ukryta dver', I na menya druzej moih prava Tebe, moj drug, prinadlezhat teper'. Ty sohranyaesh' oblik ih zhivoj, Ty - vse oni, i, znachit, ves' ya tvoj. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo V tvoej grudi - sobran'e vseh serdec, S kotorymi prostit'sya ya ne v silah, Tam carstvuet lyubov', tam svoj konec Nashli druz'ya moi, a ne v mogilah. Platya procenty ot svoih poter', Kak mnogo raz ya chtil svyatym obryadom Slezy obronennoj teh, chto teper' V tebe yavilis' dragocennym kladom! V tebe zhiva za grobom, smert' poprav, Lyubov', s nasled'em teh, kogo ne stalo. Tebe ostavil kazhdyj dolyu prav Na to, chto im vo mne prinadlezhalo. Na vseh lyubimyh ya v tebe glyazhu, I ves' tebe - vsem vam - prinadlezhu. Perevod A. SHarakshane 32 If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bett'ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, Exceeded by the height of happier men. O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: 'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, A dearer birth than this his love had brought To march in ranks of better equipage: But since he died, and poets better prove, Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.' Esli ty perezhivesh' tot blagoslovennyj dlya menya den', kogda etot skryaga [muzhlan], Smert', ukroet moi kosti prahom, i sluchajno eshche raz perechtesh' eti bednye bezyskusnye stroki tvoego umershego druga, sravni ih s dostizheniyami vremeni i, hotya by ih ostavilo pozadi lyuboe pero, sohrani ih radi moej lyubvi, ne radi stihov, kotorye budut prevzojdeny iskusstvom bolee schastlivyh lyudej. I udostoj menya takoj lyubyashchej mysli: "Esli by Muza moego druga rosla vmeste s rastushchim vekom, ego lyubov' prinesla by bolee cennye plody, chem eti, chtoby _emu_ shagat' v ryadah luchshih {*}, no raz on umer, i poety stali luchshe, ya budu chitat' ih _sochineniya_ radi ih stilya, a ego - radi lyubvi". {* V podlinnike - obraz marshiruyushchih polkov, gde "equipage" oznachaet "vooruzhenie", "osnashchenie". Vozmozhno, zdes' soderzhitsya ukazanie na luchshuyu obrazovannost' drugih poetov po sravneniyu s avtorom sonetov.} O, esli ty zemnoj prodolzhish' put', A Smert' s zemlej moi smeshaet kosti, I esli na dosuge kak-nibud' Moj skromnyj stih k tebe nagryanet v gosti, To ty, drug moj, togda sravni ego S tem, chto segodnya sozdayut poety, Kotorym Vremya darit masterstvo; YA chuvstvom zhil - ceni menya za eto. Pust' mysl' v tebe zhivet: "On mog vpolne Vospet' lyubye dni, lyubye dali. On ros by s nashim vekom naravne, No - mertvogo - drugie obognali. Poety prevzoshli ego iskusstvo, No v nih ya masterstvo cenyu, v nem - chuvstvo!" Perevod I. Fradkina Kol' ty perezhivesh' tot den', kogda mne Smert' nakonec upryachet kosti v prah, I perechtesh' potom, chto drug tvoj davnij Pisal v svoih beshitrostnyh stihah, Ty ih sravni s tvoren'yami epohi, Gde ih pero lyuboe prevzoshlo, No za lyubov' moyu, hot' strochki plohi, Ih sohrani vsem novshestvam nazlo. I obo mne ty tak podumaj nezhno: "Kogda b on s vekom vmeste mog rasti, Ego by Muza zhizn' dala, konechno, Stiham takim, chto byt' emu v chesti. Drugie prevzoshli ego, no vse zhe, Hot' slog ih dorog, v nem lyubov' dorozhe". Perevod A. SHarakishne 33 Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alcumy, Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all triumphant splendor on my brow; But out alack, he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath masked him from me now. Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth: Suns of the world may stain, when heaven's sun staineth. Mnozhestvo raz videl ya, kak velikolepnoe utro chestvuet vershiny gor carstvennym _vzglyadom_ [glazom], kasayas' zolotym licom zelenyh lugov, pozolachivaya blednye potoki s pomoshch'yu nebesnoj alhimii, no vskore pozvolyaet nizhajshim tucham bezhat' urodlivoj massoj po svoemu bozhestvennomu licu i, pryacha ot pokinutogo mira svoj oblik, kradetsya, nevidimoe, na zapad s pozorom. Tak i moe solnce odnazhdy rannim utrom ozarilo moj lob vsem svoim velikolepiem, no, uvy, moim ono bylo tol'ko odin chas - skoro ego ot menya skryla tucha. I vse zhe moya lyubov' ego za eto niskol'ko ne preziraet: zemnym solncam pozvoleno imet' pyatna, kogda v pyatnah solnce nebesnoe. YA videl, kak torzhestvennyj voshod Na gornyh pikah carstvenno gorit I blednuyu poverhnost' bystryh vod Alhimiej nebesnoj zolotit. No nizkim tucham pozvolyaet on Svoj svetlyj lik ukryt' ot nashih glaz, I vot uzhe, pohishchen, unesen, Besslavno on na zapade ugas. Tak solnca moego prekrasnyj svet Blestyashchee prorochil torzhestvo, No chas proshel - i schast'ya bol'she net, Zakryla tucha hmuraya ego. I vse zhe ya lyubvi ne izmenil: Ved' pyatna est' i u zemnyh svetil. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo V svoem yavlen'e utrennem velikom Vershinam gornym solnce darit vzor, Lugov kasayas' luchezarnym likom I v zlato prevrashchaya glad' ozer, No chasto nizkih tuch begushchej svore Daet pyatnat' svoj obraz nezemnoj I, mir pokinuv, storonoyu vskore Speshit na zapad, so svoej vinoj. Tak i zemnoe solnce ozarilo Menya svoej krasoj v nachale dnya. Uvy, moim ono nedolgo bylo - Ego sokryla tucha ot menya. Vse solncu svoemu lyubov' prostila, Ved' bez pyatna i v nebe net svetila! Perevod A. SHarakshane 34 Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy brav'ry in their rotten smoke? Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak, That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace: Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: Th'offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross. Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheeds, And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds. Pochemu ty obeshchal takoj prekrasnyj den' i _tem_ zastavil menya otpravit'sya v put' bez plashcha, chtoby pozvolit' nizkim tucham nastich' menya v puti, skryv tvoe velikolepie otvratitel'noj zavesoj? Nedostatochno tebe probit'sya skvoz' tuchi, chtoby osushit' ot Dozhdya moe pobitoe burej lico, ved' nikto ne stanet hvalit' bal'zam, kotoryj lechit ranu, no ne iscelyaet beschest'ya. I tvoj styd ne stanet lekarstvom ot moego gorya; hotya ty raskaivaesh'sya, ya vse zhe v ubytke: sozhaleniya obidchika dayut lish' slaboe uteshenie tomu, kto neset krest tyazhkoj obidy. No eti slezy - zhemchuzhiny, kotorye ronyaet tvoya lyubov', - dragocenny i iskupayut vse zlye deyaniya. Zachem ty obeshchal mne yasnyj den' I ya v dorogu bez plashcha pustilsya? No tuch menya nastigla zlaya ten' - Tvoj svetlyj obraz v dymke ih zatmilsya. Pust' iz-za tuch probilsya blesk lucha - Dozhdem pobityj lik ne sushat vzory. I nazovu l' spasitelem vracha, CHto lechit ranu, ne lecha pozora? I skorb' moyu tvoj styd ne iscelit, Raskayan'e tebe ne dast zashchity. Obidchika pechal' ne oblegchit, Ne oblegchit mne tyazhkij krest obidy. No slezy l'esh' ty, i zhemchuzhin teh Bogatstvo ves' tvoj iskupaet greh. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Byl mne toboj obeshchan den' pogozhij, I v put' ya ustremilsya nalegke, No nizkoj tuchi mgloj, na dym pohozhej, Byl ot tebya otrezan vdaleke. Pust' ty razveesh' tuchi mezhdu nami, - Hot' ot dozhdya lico mne osushi, - Vse malo mne, ved' proku net v bal'zame, CHto lechit rany tela, ne dushi. V tvoem raskayan'e mne net lechen'ya, Pechal' tvoya ushcherb ne vozmestit. Obidy krest tyazhel, i oblegchen'ya Ne prineset obidevshego styd. No etot perl - sleza s tvoej resnicy - Iskupit vsyu vinu tvoyu storicej. Perevod A. SHarakshane 35 No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. All men make faults, and even I in this, Authorizing thy trespass with compare, Myself corrupting salving thy amiss, Excusing thy sins more than their sins are; For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense - Thy adverse party is thy advocate - And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: Such civil war is in my love and hate That I an accessary needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. Ne pechal'sya bol'she o tom, chto sovershil: u roz est' shipy, a v serebryanyh istochnikah - gryaz'; tuchi i zatmeniya pyatnayut lunu i solnce, i otvratitel'nyj cherv' zhivet v sladchajshem butone. Vse lyudi sovershayut prostupki, i dazhe ya - v etom _stihotvorenii_, uzakonivaya tvoe pregreshenie sravneniyami, unizhaya sebya, zaglazhivayu tvoyu oshibku, nahodya dlya tvoih grehov bol'she opravdanij, chem dlya grehov drugih {*}. Ved' chuvstvennomu prostupku ya pridayu razumnost' - tvoya protivnaya storona stanovitsya tvoim advokatom - i protiv sebya samogo nachinayu tyazhbu. Takaya grazhdanskaya vojna idet vo mne mezhdu lyubov'yu i nenavist'yu, chto ya ponevole stanovlyus' posobnikom milogo vora, kotoryj menya zhestoko ograbil. {* Spornoe mesto. V original'nom izdanii Torpa v etoj stroke dvazhdy povtoryalos' mestoimenie "their" (ih): "Excusing their sins more than their sins are", odnako bol'shinstvo pozdnejshih izdatelej schitali eto oshibkoj "nabora i zamenyali odno ili oba mestoimeniya na "thy" (tvoi), chem opredelyalis' raznye istolkovaniya. Pomimo prinyatogo v nastoyashchem perevode, rasprostranennym istolkovaniem yavlyaetsya: "...nahodya dlya tvoih grehov bol'she opravdanij, chem oni togo zasluzhivayut (i tem samym pooshchryaya tebya na dal'nejshie prostupki)".} Nu ne goryuj zhe o svoem postupke: U roz shipy est', a v fontanah - tina, CHerv' merzostnyj zhivet v butone hrupkom, Zatmen'ya pryachut yasnye svetila... Porochny lyudi - vot i ya pod stat' im: CHtob opravdat' tebya - ishchu sravnenij, Hot' uteshat' tebya berus' nekstati - Tvoj greh ne stoit stol'kih izvinenij. I chuvstvennost' tvoyu ya ponimayu - Beru zashchitu, brosiv obvinen'e, Sebe zhe samomu ya isk vchinyayu; Stol' yarostno v dushe moej srazhen'e, CHto ya uzh souchastnik tvoj userdnyj, Moj milyj vor, takoj nemiloserdnyj. Perevod T. SHabaevoj Oshibkoj ne kaznis', ona ponyatna: Poroj hrustal'nyj zamutnen rodnik, U rozy est' shipy, na solnce - pyatna, I v sladostnyj buton chervyak pronik. My vse greshny. YA - tem, chto obelyayu Tvoyu vinu sravneniem takim, Rassudok svoj postydno osleplyayu, Tebe proshchaya bol'she, chem drugim. Oshibke chuvstv ishchu ya opravdan'e, Stal advokatom obvinitel' tvoj, Lyubov' i nenavist', bushuya vtajne, Vedut vo mne mezhdousobnyj boj, Tak chto posobnikom ya stal nevol'no Obidchika, mne sdelavshego bol'no. Perevod A. SHarakshane 36 Let me confess that we two must be twain, Although our undivided loves are one: So shall those blots that do with me remain, Without thy help, by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not love's sole effect, Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. I may not evermore acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name - But do not so; I love thee in such sort, As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. Pozvol' mne priznat', chto my dvoe dolzhny byt' razdvoeny, hotya _dve_ nashi nerazdelimye lyubvi sut' odno, chtoby te pyatna _pozora_, kotorye lezhat na mne, ya nes odin, bez tvoej pomoshchi. V dvuh nashih lyubovyah - odna privyazannost', no v nashih zhiznyah - raznoe zlo, kotoroe, hotya i ne umalyaet edinoj lyubvi, kradet u lyubvi dragocennye chasy naslazhdeniya. YA, mozhet byt', nikogda bol'she ne priznayu tebya pri vstreche, chtoby moya priskorbnaya vina ne navlekla na tebya pozor; i ty publichno ne vykazyvaj mne raspolozheniya, chtoby, okazannaya mne chest' ne ubavila chesti u tvoego imeni. Ne delaj etogo; ya lyublyu tebya tak, chto, poskol'ku ty moj, i tvoya reputaciya - moya. I pravda, luchshe nam derzhat'sya vroz', Hot' na dvoih lyubov' u nas odna. Inache tem delit'sya by prishlos', Za chto na mne odnom lezhit vina. Lyubvi edinoj my priznali vlast', Zato u kazhdogo svoya beda. Puskaj ona ne odoleet strast', No luchshij mig pohitit bez truda. S toboj ya vstrechus' slovno nevznachaj, Moya vina na mne byla i est', I ty pri vseh mne chest' ne vozdavaj, CHtoby tvoya ne postradala chest'. Poberegis': ved' my s toboj - odno I lyazhet na tebya moe pyatno. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo YA priznayu: dolzhny my byt' dvoimi, Hotya lyubov'yu slity my v odno. Pust' lish' moe grehi pyatnayut imya, Mne v odinochku ih nesti dano. Odna lyubov' soedinyaet milyh, No v zhizni kazhdogo svoya pechal'. Lyubvi nichto pokolebat' ne v silah, No otnyatyh chasov bescennyh zhal'. YA budu oto vseh skryvat' privychno Lyubuyu svyaz', chto mezhdu nami est', I ty menya ne privechaj publichno, CHtob na menya svoyu ne tratit' chest'. YA tak lyublyu, chto vsem v tebe vladeyu - I chest'yu besporochnoyu tvoeyu. Perevod A. SHarakshane 37 As a decrepit father takes delight To see his active child do deeds of youth, So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite, Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth; For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, Or any of these all, or all, or more, Intitled in thy parts, do crowned sit, I make my love ingrafted to this store: So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give, That I in thy abundance am sufficed, And by a part of all thy glory live: Look what is best, that best I wish in thee; This wish I have, then ten times happy me. Kak dryahlyj otec raduetsya, vidya, chto ego polnyj zhizni syn [rebenok] sovershaet deyaniya yunosti, tak ya, ohromevshij {*} po zhestokoj zlobe Fortuny, nahozhu vse svoe uteshenie v tvoih dostoinstvah i vernosti, tak kak esli krasota, proishozhdenie, bogatstvo, ili um, ili chto-to iz etogo, ili vse, ili chto-to eshche, oblagorozhennye toboj, po-korolevski voplotilis' v tebe {**}, _to_ ya priobshchayu svoyu lyubov' k etim blagam, _i_ togda ya ne hromoj, ne bednyj, ne preziraemyj, poskol'ku eta ten' _tvoih blag_ tak sushchestvenna {***}, chto mne dovol'no tvoego izobiliya i ya zhiv chast'yu vsej tvoej slavy. CHto ni est' luchshego, ya zhelayu, chtoby eto prinadlezhalo tebe; esli eto zhelanie vypolneno, to ya desyatikratno schastliv. {* Bol'shinstvo kommentatorov schitayut, chto opredelenie "lame" (hromoj) zdes' sleduet ponimat' v perenosnom smysle. ** Spornoe mesto, dopuskayushchee razlichnye prochteniya. *** V podlinnike ispol'zovany zaimstvovannye iz filosofii obrazy teni (shadow) i substancii (substance), o kotoryh sm. primechanie k sonetu 53.} Kak nemoshchnyj otec sledit svershen'ya Rebenka svoego vo cvete let, Tak ya, vkusiv ot roka porazhen'e, Slezhu za cheredoj tvoih pobed. Ved' i umu, i krasote, i slave, Bogatstvu - vsem dostoinstvam tvoim YA, zhalkij nishchij, prichastit'sya vprave, Svoej lyubov'yu prichashchennyj im. I ya teper' ne nemoshchnyj, ne bednyj, Mne hleb nasushchnyj zren'e podaet, Sledyashchee, lyubya, tvoj marsh pobednyj, - I syt ya slavoj ot tvoih shchedrot. Vse to, chego zhelat' tebe ya smeyu, YA ot tebya storiceyu imeyu. Perevod S. Stepanova Kak starcheskaya nemoshch' ispokon Vzdyhaet, uteshayas' yunoj siloj, Tak ya, fortunoj zloyu obdelen, Tvoimi zhiv dostoinstvami, milyj. Tvoj um, bogatstvo, znatnost', krasota I mne peredayutsya po krupice: Ne hil, ne beden ya i hromota Moya ischezla - net prichin kaznit'sya. Obogatil menya soyuz dvoih: Tvoi zaslugi - i moi po pravu, ZHivet vo mne ta chast' zaslug tvoih, Kotoraya tebe prinosit slavu. Vse luchshee, chto v mire est' u nas, - V tebe: schastlivej vseh ya v desyat' raz. Perevod I. Fradkina 38 How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O give thyself the thanks if aught in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou thyself dost give invention light? Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth Than those old nine which rhymers invocate, And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth Eternal numbers to outlive long date. If my slight Muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. Kak mozhet moya Muza nuzhdat'sya v predmete dlya tvorchestva, kogda _zhiv_ [dyshish'] ty, kotoryj napolnyaet moi stihi svoej dragocennoj temoj, slishkom velikolepnoj, chtoby ee mogla vyrazit' lyubaya zauryadnaya bumaga? O blagodari sam sebya, esli chto-to u menya _v stihah_ predstaet v tvoih glazah dostojnym chteniya, ibo kto nastol'ko tup [nem], chtoby ne sumet' pisat' k tebe, kogda ty sam darish' svet dlya tvorchestva? Bud' sam desyatoj Muzoj, vdesyatero prevoshodyashchej [svoimi dostoinstvami] te starye devyat', kotoryh prizyvayut stihotvorcy, i tot, kto obrashchaetsya k tebe, pust' sozdast vechnye stihi, perezhivushchie dolgie vremena. Esli moya skromnaya Muza ponravitsya nashim pridirchivym dnyam, pust' trud dostanetsya mne, a hvala - tebe. CHto nuzhno mne eshche dlya sochinen'ya, Kol' dyshish' ty i v moj vlivaesh' stih Takoj bal'zam chudesnyj vdohnoven'ya, Kotoryj nedostupen dlya drugih? Blagodari sebya, kol' chem-to ya V tvoih glazah sumel dostojnym stat'. Tot nem, kto ne napishet dlya tebya, - Ty svet takoj sposoben izluchat'. O, bud' desyatoj Muzoj, v desyat' raz Dostojnee teh prezhnih devyati! Tomu zhe, kto vozzval k tebe sejchas, Ty pomogi bessmert'e obresti. Kol' mil ya vkusam etih strogih dnej, Moj budet trud, a pohvala - tvoej. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Issyaknet razve Muza, esli ty Sebya v stihi vlivaesh', mne na radost', Tak laskovo, chto grubye listy Vobrat' v sebya ne v silah etu sladost'? Ty slovno luch Poezii zhivoj, On svetit - ya poyu ot voshishchen'ya. Hvali sebya za stih udachnyj moj: Ty dlya menya istochnik vdohnoven'ya. O, bud' desyatoj Muzoyu moej, Sopernichaya s devyat'yu drugimi, I v desyat' raz bud' ostal'nyh sil'nej, Skvoz' gody pronesi stihi zhivymi. I esli im v vekah dan' vozdadut, To slava vsya tvoya, moj - tol'ko trud. Perevod I. Fradkina 39 O how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is't but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this, let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone. O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, And that thou teachest how to make one twain, By praising him here who doth hence remain. O, kak zhe ya mogu vospet' podobayushchim obrazom tvoi dostoinstva, kogda ty - sut' luchshaya chast' menya? CHto mozhet moya pohvala prinesti mne samomu? I kogo, kak ne sebya, ya hvalyu, kogda ya hvalyu tebya? Hotya by radi etogo davaj zhit' vroz', i pust' nasha dragocennaya lyubov' poteryaet nazvanie edinoj - chtoby, blagodarya etomu raz®edineniyu, ya mog vozdat' tebe to dolzhnoe, kotorogo zasluzhivaesh' ty odin. O razluka, kakoj pytkoj byla by ty, esli by tvoj tosklivyj dosug ne daval sladostnoj svobody posvyashchat' vremya myslyam o lyubvi, kotoraya tak sladostno zanimaet vremya i mysli, i esli by ty ne uchila, kak sdelat' edinoe razdvoennym, vozdavaya zdes' hvalu tomu, kto _ot menya_ otdalen. O, kak vospet' prekrasnyj oblik tvoj, Kogda ty - luchshee, chto est' vo mne? Kak mne tebya ukrasit' pohvaloj I tem ne pohvalit' sebya vdvojne? Rasstanemsya - hotya by dlya togo, CHtoby uvidel ty, moj vlastelin, Vsyu silu poklonen'ya moego, Kotorogo dostoin ty odin. Razluka gor'ko muchila by nas, Kogda by ne davala nam dosug Dlya myslej o lyubvi v zavetnyj chas, Smyagchayushchij obmanom tyazhest' muk. No i v razluke my