dushevnyh kachestv_, kotoryj dolzhen byl by stat' primerom, esli by gde-to rascvetal ravnyj tebe? {**} Toshchaya skudost' zhivet v tom pere, kotoroe ne pridaet svoemu predmetu _hotya by_ nebol'shoj slavy, no tot, kto pishet o tebe - esli on smozhet _tol'ko_ skazat', chto ty est' ty, - oblagorodit svoe opisanie. Pust' on skopiruet to, chto v tebe napisano _prirodoj_, ne uhudshiv togo, chto priroda sdelala takim sovershennym, i takaya _tochnaya_ kopiya proslavit ego um, zastaviv vseh voshishchat'sya ego stilem. Ty k svoej blagoslovennoj krasote dobavlyaesh' proklyat'e tem, chto lyubish' hvalu, otchego hvala tebe stanovitsya huzhe. {* Sbivchivyj sintaksis pervoj stroki dal kommentatoram pishchu dlya razlichnyh tolkovanij; vprochem, razlichiya mezhdu tolkovaniyami zdes' ne ochen' sushchestvenny dlya ponimaniya obshchego smysla. ** Drugimi slovami: nikto ne mozhet prevzojti tebya krasotoj; esli est' na svete kto-to stol' zhe prekrasnyj, to on tol'ko tvoya kopiya.} Kto skazhet v pohvalu tebe slova, Bogache etih: ty est' ty i tol'ko? Vnimat' im u kogo eshche prava? I v ch'ej eshche kazne sokrovishch stol'ko? Ne vylezet tot stih iz nishchety, CHto pohvaloyu ne dobavit chesti, No tot, chto prosto skazhet: ty est' ty, Ukrasit i sebya s toboyu vmeste. Vse, chto tebe prirodoyu dano, Kopiruya, nichut' on ne pribavit, Pravdivoe risuya polotno, I tem sebya povsyudu on proslavit. No blaga ne vo vsem tvoi mily: Ot toj hvaly tvoi gorchat hvaly. Perevod S. Stepanova Kto skazhet luchshe? "Ty est' tol'ko ty", - Vozmozhno li prevyshe voshvalen'e? CHej obrazec prirodnoj krasoty S tvoim bogatstvom vyderzhit sravnen'e? Bezdaren stihoplet, i stih ubog, Kol' adresatu ne pribavit slavy; Kto peredat' perom iskusnym smog, CHto ty est' ty, - lish' tot Poet po pravu. Pust' kopiyu s tebya napishet on - To, chto prirodoj sozdano kak chudo, I krasoty cvetushchej etalon Ego pero i um vosslavit vsyudu. A ty vnimaesh' lesti, chto pyatnom Legla na chudnom oblike tvoem. Perevod S. SHestakova 85 My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, And like unlettered clerk still cry 'Amen' To every hymn that every spirit affords In polished form of well-refined pen. Hearing you praised, I say, "Tis so, 'tis true', And to the most of praise add something more; (But that is in my thought, whose love to you (Though words come hindmost) holds his rank before. Then others for the breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect. Moya Muza, u kotoroj svyazan yazyk, vezhlivo molchit, v to vremya kak hvalebnye rechi tebe, pyshno sostavlennye, zapechatlevayutsya v pis'menah {*} zolotym perom, v dragocennyh vyrazheniyah, ottochennyh vsemi Muzami. U menya horoshie mysli, togda kak drugie pishut horoshie slova, i, kak negramotnyj klirik, ya vse vremya vosklicayu "Amin'!" na kazhdyj gimn, kotoryj sposobnyj duh rozhdaet v izyskannoj forme, utonchennym perom! Slysha, kak tebya voshvalyayut, ya govoryu: "|to tak, eto verno", i k samoj bol'shoj hvale ya dobavlyayu chto-to eshche, no eto - v myslyah, gde lyubov' k tebe stoit v pervom ryadu, hotya _moi_ slova okazyvayutsya poslednimi. Poetomu uvazhaj drugih za vozduh slov, _a_ menya - za nemye mysli, kotorye govoryat po-nastoyashchemu. {* Po mneniyu nekotoryh kommentatorov, "their" v etoj stroke original'nogo izdaniya yavlyaetsya opechatkoj i dolzhno byt' ispravleno na "thy"; v takom sluchae vozmozhno prochtenie: "zapechatlevayut tvoyu naturu".} Moya nemaya Muza vse molchit, A tolki o tebe slyshny krugom, I prevoshodno pohvala zvuchit, Napisannaya zolotym perom. Mne mysli po nutru, drugim - slova, Na vse, chto slyshu, ya "Amin'" tverzhu, Kak sluzhka, gramotnyj edva-edva, I sladostnogo gimna ne slozhu. Poddakivayu: "Tak i est'", "Vot-vot", Kogda tebya rashvalivayut vslast', No v glubine dushi lyubov' zhivet, Kotoraya zatmit lyubuyu strast'. Ty v nih ceni umenie blesnut', A v nemote moej - naguyu sut'. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Kosnoyazychna Muza u menya, I net vo mne talanta, kak v inom, Kotoryj, obraz divnyj sohranya, Tebya voshvalit zolotym perom. On chudno pishet, ya lish' polon dum, Skazhu "Amin'", kak podojdet pora V tom gimne, chto sozdal velikij um V shlifovke utonchennogo pera. "Konechno", "|to tak" - slova moi, Kogda zvuchit velichestvennyj stih, No skol'ko myslej v chuvstvah o lyubvi I skol'ko chuvstva v pomyslah moih; Ego stihi ceni za krasotu, Menya za myslej tihih nemotu. Perevod A. Kuznecova 86 Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonishnd. He, nor that affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence, As victors, of my silence cannot boast; I was not sick of any fear from thence; But when your countenance filled up his line, Then lacked I matter, that infeebled mine. Ego li gordyj napolnennyj parus velikih stihov, derzhashchih kurs k etomu bescennomu trofeyu - tebe, zaper moi sozrevshie mysli v moem mozgu, prevrashchaya dlya nih v grobnicu chrevo, v kotorom oni vyrosli? Ego li duh, kotoryj duhi nauchili pisat' {*} tak, kak smertnym ne dano, lishil menya dara rechi? Net, eto ne on i ne ego nochnye sotovarishchi, pomogayushchie emu, priveli v zameshatel'stvo moj stih. Ni on, ni _ego_ lyubeznyj znakomyj duh, kotoryj ezhenoshchno pichkaet {**} ego znaniem, ne mogut, kak pobediteli, pohvalit'sya moim molchaniem, ya vovse ne byl obessilen strahom iz-za nih; No kogda tvoya vneshnost' napolnila ego stroki, togda ya lishilsya predmeta, _i_ eto obessililo moi stihi. {* Po mneniyu chasti kommentatorov, zdes' soderzhitsya namek na CHapmena, yakoby utverzhdavshego, chto ego uchil pisat' duh Gomera. ** V originale - "gulls", proizvodnoe ot ustarevshego sushchestvitel'nogo "gull" (glotka).} Byt' mozhet stih ego, chto galeonom Moguchim yarostno k tebe stremitsya, Moj prevrashchaet um - zhivoe lono Edva rozhdennyh myslej - v ih grobnicu? Il' duh ego, ot demonov polnochi Takoyu vlast'yu slova nadelennyj, CHto smertnym prevzojti ego net mochi, Srazhaet v prah moj stih oshelomlennyj? Net, ni on sam, ni demon, chto lukavya Emu nochnye obrazy vnushaet, Pobedoj legkoj nado mnoj ne vprave Pohvastat'sya - ne to menya smushchaet. Ne v silah ty sderzhat' emu pohval! Vot otchego v dushe moej obval. Perevod O. Dudoladoeoj Ego l' stihov moguchih parusa Menya velikolepiem srazili, Dum robkih zaglushili golosa I v grob ih kolybel' preobrazili? Ego li duh, chto s duhami privyk Obshchat'sya, k vechnoj priobshchayas' muze, Skoval zaklyat'em bednyj moj yazyk? Otnyud'! ni on, ni te, chto s nim v soyuze. Puskaj ego durachit gost' nochnoj Lyubeznoyu i vkradchivoj besedoj, YA nem ne ot vostorga, - nado mnoj Oni ne mogut hvastat'sya pobedoj. Poka tebya on slavit, ya molchu: Pet' horom ne mogu i ne hochu. Perevod G. Kruzhkova Ego l' stihov moguchee vetrilo, CHto, kak za prizom, za toboj stremitsya, Utrobu myslej sdelalo mogiloj? I mozg dlya zrelyh myslej - kak grobnica. Ego li duh, chto duhami pisat' Obuchen mnogo luchshe, chem drugie, Srazil menya? Ne mogut ispugat' Menya ego pomoshchniki nochnye. Ni on, ni prizrak tot, emu rodnoj, CHto noch'yu znan'em pichkaet ego, Pust' ne trubyat pobedu nado mnoj - Iz nih ne ustrashus' ya nikogo. No stih ego soboj napolnil ty - Vot v chem moej prichina nemoty. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Neuzhto parusnik ego stihov, Pustivshis' v put' k tebe, bescennoj celi, Lishil menya neobhodimyh slov I mysl' moyu prikonchil v kolybeli? Neuzhto duh ego slomil menya, S drugimi sgovorivshis' potaenno? Net, vsya ego polnochnaya rodnya Ne naneset moim stiham urona! Ni on, ni dobrodushnyj domovoj, Kotoryj po nocham ego durachit, Ne vlastny nad moeyu golovoj, Ne etot strah peredo mnoj mayachit. V ego stihah tvoe lico vstaet. Mne tvoego lica nedostaet. Perevod V. Orla Ne stih ego, na gordyh parusah Derzhashchij kurs k tebe, zavetnoj celi, Vinoj tomu, chto razum moj zachah I mysli gibnut v nem, sozrevshi ele. Ne duh ego, chto duhami uchen Pisat', kak smertnym nedostanet mochi, Vinoj, chto dara rechi ya lishen, - Ni on i nikakie teni nochi. I pust' k nemu lyubezen prizrak tot, Komu v nochi pero ego vnimalo, Ne ih soyuz mne zapechatal rot, Iskusstva ih ya ne boyus' nimalo. No on stal pet' o prelestyah tvoih, I, ih lishas', moj obessilel stih. Perevod A. SHarakshane Ego l' podnyavshij parus gordyj stih, K tvoim bogatstvam povernuv kormilo, Horonit zrelost' zamyslov moih, Moj mozg-utrobu delaya mogiloj? Ego li duh bessmertnoyu strokoj Zavetnyj dar moj predaet zabven'yu? O net! Ni on, ni drug ego nochnoj Ubit' vo mne ne mogut vdohnoven'ya. Ni on, ni tot, kto tajno pri svechah Peru ego diktuet predpisan'ya, Verh nado mnoyu ne voz'mut; i strah Ne est' prichina moego molchan'ya. Kogda ego sozdan'ya ty hvalil, Togda lish' ya umolk, lishennyj sil. Perevod S. SHestakova 87 Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thy self thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgement making. Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter, In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. Proshchaj, ty slishkom dorog, chtoby ya toboj vladel, I, veroyatno, tebe izvestna tvoya cena. Privilegiya tvoih dostoinstv daet tebe svobodu, _togda kak_ moi prava na tebya ogranicheny, ibo kak ya mogu obladat' toboj inache, nezheli s tvoego soizvoleniya, i chem ya zasluzhivayu takoe bogatstvo? Osnovanij dlya takogo prekrasnogo dara vo mne net, poetomu moj patent _na obladanie toboj_ othodit nazad. Ty daril sebya, ne znaya svoej cennosti ili zhe oshibayas' vo mne - _tom_, komu ty _sebya_ daril; poetomu tvoj velikij dar, pererosshij takuyu nedoocenku, vozvrashchaetsya obratno [domoj] _teper'_, kogda ty prishel k bolee pravil'nomu suzhdeniyu. Tak ya vladel toboj - kak v priyatnom sne: mne snilos', chto ya Korol', a prosnuvshis', _ya uvidel, chto net_ nichego podobnogo. Proshchaj! Ty slishkom dorog dlya vladen'ya. Ty cenu znaesh' sam svoyu otlichno, Imeesh' l'gotu na osvobozhden'e, Ved' pravo na tebya ne bezgranichno. Mogu l' tebya uderzhivat' ya dole? I razve klad takoj mne po zaslugam? Ty mne daril sebya po dobroj vole - YA otdayu patent rukoyu druga. Sebya ty otdaval, ceny ne znaya, Il' oshibalsya ty vo mne, byt' mozhet; No dar tvoj, iz oshibok vyrastaya, Vnov' doma - nyne ty rassudish' strozhe. CHto moj ty, son sheptal mne pryamo v ushi. Vo sne - korol', nikem ya stal, prosnuvshis'. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Proshchaj! YA slishkom dorozhu toboyu, CHtob klad takoj derzhat' v svoem vladen'e; Tvoe bogatstvo vozroslo s lihvoyu; I sam zhelaesh' ty osvobozhden'ya. Uderzhivat'? - staraniya naprasny, Kol' ne imeesh' ni zaslug, ni zvan'ya; Net, ne dostoin ya shchedrot prekrasnyh, Ty vprave vozvratit' svoi dayan'ya. Svoej ceny ne znaya, bezrassudno Vruchil ty bednyaku podarok znatnyj; I chtoby ne rastratit' dar tvoj chudnyj, Teper' ego ya otdayu obratno. Mne snilos': ya korol', v moej ty vlasti; No eto bylo lish' vo sne, k neschast'yu. Perevod S. SHestakova 88 When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I'll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn: With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed wherein I am attainted, That thou in losing me shall win much glory; And I by this will be a gainer too, For, bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to myself I do, Doing thee vantage, double vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. Kogda ty voznamerish'sya menya prinizit' i vystavit' moi dostoinstva na osmeyanie, ya vystuplyu na tvoej storone protiv sebya i budu dokazyvat', chto ty dobrodetelen, hotya ty narushil klyatvu; luchshe vseh znakomyj s sobstvennymi slabostyami, _vystupaya_ na tvoej storone, ya mogu rasskazat' o skrytyh porokah, kotorye menya beschestyat, _tak_ chtoby, rasstavshis' so mnoj, ty poluchil vseobshchee odobrenie. I ya ot etogo tozhe budu v vyigryshe, tak kak vse moi mysli - s lyubov'yu o tebe, _i_ obidy, kotorye ya nanoshu sam sebe, - esli oni blago dlya tebya, - vdvojne blago dlya menya. Moya lyubov' takova - ya tak _vsecelo_ prinadlezhu tebe, - chto radi tvoej pravoty snesu lyubuyu obidu [nespravedlivost']. Kogda sebya, presytyas', opravdat' Zahochesh', brosiv na menya pyatno, YA sam sebya zlosloviyu predat' Gotov, chtob byt' s toboyu zaodno. Svoi poroki dostovernej vseh Mogu izobrazit', i nash razryv Tebe posluzhit k chesti, a ne v greh, Opasnye podrobnosti prikryv. Tvoyu pobedu vstrechu, ne skorbya, Vdvojne ya stanu radovat'sya ej: CHto udalos' mne zashchitit' tebya I sdelat' vse po prihoti tvoej. YA ne boyus' ostat'sya ne v chesti - Lish' ot beschest'ya by tebya spasti. Perevod O. Dudoladovoj Kogda menya posmeshishchem na sud Ty vystavish', smeyas' so vsemi vmeste, YA storonu tvoyu primu i tut V zashchitu pravoty tvoej i chesti. Skazhu, mol, eto ya vsemu vinoj I, mol, nikto tebya vinit' ne vprave - I v rezul'tate tvoj razryv so mnoj Okazhetsya tebe lish' k vyashchej slave. Tebya svoim pozorom obelyu, Sebe pri etom vygodu imeya: Hot' broshen ya, no ya tebya lyublyu, Ty budesh' prav - i budu prav vdvojne ya. I daby ne postig tebya pozor, Lyuboj gotov prinyat' ya prigovor. Perevod S. Stepanova 89 Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, And I will comment upon that offence; Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, Against thy reasons making no defence. Thou canst not (love) disgrace me half so ill, To set a form upon desired change, As I'll myself disgrace, knowing thy will: I will acquaintance strangle and look strange, Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, Lest I (too much profane) should do it wrong, And haply of our old acquaintance tell. For thee, against myself I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. Skazhi, chto otkazalsya ot menya iz-za kakogo-to prostupka, i ya _sam_ budu govorit' _osuzhdayushche_ ob etom pregreshenii; zagovori o moej hromote {*}, i ya srazu nachnu spotykat'sya [zapinat'sya], protiv tvoih dovodov nikak ne zashchishchayas'. Ty ne mozhesh', lyubov' moya, oporochit' menya vpolovinu tak zlo, chtoby pridat' _blagovidnuyu_ formu zhelaemoj peremene, kak ya sam oporochu sebya, znaya tvoyu volyu: ya _skroyu_ [podavlyu] znakomstvo s _toboj_ i budu vesti sebya kak chuzhoj, budu storonit'sya mest, gde ty byvaesh', i na moem yazyke tvoego sladostnogo, vozlyublennogo imeni bol'she ne budet, chtoby ya, po svoej prostote, ne sovershil oshibki i sluchajno ne vydal nashego starogo znakomstva. Radi tebya ya klyanus' sporit' s samim soboj, tak kak ya ne dolzhen lyubit' togo, kogo ty nenavidish'. {* Po mneniyu bol'shinstva kommentatorov, zdes' rech' idet ne o fizicheskoj hromote, a o moral'noj slabosti ili iz®yanah tvorchestva.} CHtob opravdat' razryv, ty obolgi, Najdi vo mne iz®yan - ya podygrayu: Skazhi, mol, hrom na obe ya nogi, Bezropotno ya tut zhe zahromayu. Skol' nizkim ty menya ni nazovi, CHtob vyglyadet' v svoej izmene krashe, Sebya sil'nej unizhu, iz lyubvi, I v korne preseku znakomstvo nashe. Ne popadus' ya vzoru tvoemu I nezhnoe tvoe zabudu imya, CHtob nashego znakomstva nikomu Ne vydal golos zvukami svoimi. S soboj borot'sya stanu chto est' sil - Ne mil tebe, ya i sebe ne mil. Perevod S. Stepanova Ty prav vo vsem - ne sporyu ya s toboj: Vinish' v poroke - ya ne otricayu, I esli mne vnushish', chto ya hromoj, To ya i v samom dele zahromayu. Zahochesh' ssory - ne ishchi predlog, Sam gruz viny vzvalyu sebe na plechi: Ne ty - ya broshu sam sebe uprek, Sam stanu izbegat' zhelannoj vstrechi I otvernus'! Da, raz mne dorog ty, Tvoe voveki imya ne otkroyu, CHtob pishchi ne davat' dlya klevety - Kak budto vvek chuzhie my s toboyu. Kto vrag tebe, togo ne poterplyu: Tebe ne mil - sebya ne vozlyublyu! Perevod I. Fradkina 90 Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now Now while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of Fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss. Ah do not, when my heart has scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquered woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow. If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come; so shall I taste At first the very worst of Fortune's might; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so. CHto zh, otvernis' ot menya, kogda pozhelaesh', no luchshe sejchas - sejchas, kogda mir voznamerilsya byt' vo vsem protiv menya; ob®edinis' so zloboj Fortuny, zastav' menya sognut'sya, a ne stan' poslednej poterej. Ne pridi, kogda moe serdce izbezhit etoj _nyneshnej_ pechali, v ar'ergarde pobezhdennogo gorya; ne dobav' k burnoj nochi dozhdlivoe utro, ottyagivaya zadumannuyu pogibel'. Esli zhelaesh' brosit' menya, ne brosaj menya v poslednyuyu ochered', kogda drugie, melkie bedstviya _uzhe_ nanesut svoj ushcherb, no pridi s pervym natiskom _bed_, - tak ya isprobuyu srazu naihudshuyu silu Fortuny, i drugie goresti - kotorye teper' kazhutsya gorem - po sravneniyu s poterej tebya uzhe ne pokazhutsya takovymi. Porvi so mnoj, no v eti dni porvi, Kogda ves' mir presleduet menya. Segodnya stan' vragom moej lyubvi, Ne zadevaya zavtrashnego dnya. Vse tyazhkie udary otraziv, Poslednego udara my ne zhdem. Ne zamenyaj zhe mne, poka ya zhiv, Nochnuyu buryu utrennim dozhdem. Ostav' menya, no ne potom, kogda Ot melkih bed ya budu sam ne svoj, A nynche, chtoby glavnaya beda Byla mne srazu poslana sud'boj. Tebya lishit'sya - hudshaya iz bed, V sravnen'ya s nej drugih kak budto net. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Uzh esli tak - voznenavid' skorej, Pokuda mir navis svincovoj tuchej. Obrush' udar so zloj sud'boj moej, No tol'ko posle - ya proshu - ne muchaj. I esli kak-to spravlyus' ya s bedoj, Ne stan' togda posledneyu nevzgodoj - Pust' ne utihnet uragan nochnoj V obychnom serom utre bez ishoda. I kol' razryv, to srazu - ne potom, Kogda vse sgubit melkaya moroka. Ujdi sejchas, chtob tvoj uhod, kak grom, Otkryl mne sut' svirepoj moshchi roka. CHtob ponyal ya skvoz' gorech' proshlyh bed, CHto zhizn' lish' v tom, so mnoj ty ili net. Perevod B. Kushnera Da, razlyubi, kol' hochesh'; no - sejchas, Kogda ves' mir gotov menya raspyat'. Ob®edinis' s Fortunoj v etot raz, CHtob pozdneyu utratoyu ne stat'. I esli ya izbavlyus' ot pechali, Razbitomu vragu ne pomogaj; Noch' burnuyu dozhdlivym dnem venchaya, Pogibeli moej ne otdalyaj. I kol' ostavish', to ne v pozdnij srok, Kogda projdut vse bedy cheredoj; Ostav' sejchas, chtob ya izvedat' mog Neistovuyu moshch' Fortuny zloj. Pomerknet vse, o chem tomlyus', skorbya, V sravnenii s potereyu tebya. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Kol' ty reshil ujti, to v eti dni, Kogda derzhus' ya iz poslednih sil. S Fortunoj zaodno menya sogni, No v spinu mne udar ne nanosi. I esli ustoyu v srazhen'i trudnom, Ne podmenyaj poverzhennyh vragov; Noch' groznuyu zakonchiv hmurym utrom, Kogda ya k porazhen'yu ne gotov. Ostav' menya, no Ne poslednim, net! Idi smelee pervym v etot boj, CHtob ya uznal eshche do melkih bed Vsyu zlobu, zataennuyu sud'boj. I to, chto dlya menya teper' beda, Bedoyu ne pokazhetsya togda. Perevod V. Skvorcova I esli brosish', bros' menya teper', Teper', kogda ya predan strashnym karam; Ne bud' poslednej iz moih poter', Porvi so mnoj - i ne tyani s udarom. Porvi teper', a ne kogda-nibud', Kogda iz bed ya vyjdu bezmyatezhnym; Ty livnem posle buri v noch' ne bud' I ne tyani s razryvom neizbezhnym. I esli brosish', to ne nado zhdat', Poka vsyu gorech' bed svoih izmeryu: Porvi so mnoj teper' i daj poznat' Sperva naigorchajshuyu poteryu. I skol' uzhasna nyne zhizn' moya, Tebya utrativ, ne zamechu ya. Perevod S. Stepanova Kol' byt' otvergnutym mne suzhdeno, Tak pust' - teper', kogda krugom neschast'e. Sogni, s Fortunoj zlobnoj zaodno, Menya svoim prezren'em v odnochas'e. Dav serdcu s gorem spravit'sya svoim, Ne nasylaj vosled drugogo gorya. Za noch'yu burnoj utrom grozovym Ne razrazis' nezhdanno, nochi vtorya. Kol' hochesh' brosit' - tak brosaj, ne zhdi, Kogda vse melkie sluchatsya bedy. Vpered drugih napastej napadi, CHtob hudshij zhrebij srazu ya izvedal. I ryadom s etim bol' drugih utrat Pokazhetsya mne men'she vo sto krat. Perevod A. SHarakshane 91 Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their body's force, Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest; But these particulars are not my measure: All these I better in one general best. Thy love is better than high birth to me, Richer that wealth, prouder than garments' cost, Of more delight than hawks and horses be; And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take All this away, and me most wretched make. Nekotorye gordyatsya svoim rozhdeniem, nekotorye - masterstvom, nekotorye - bogatstvom, nekotorye - siloj svoego tela, nekotorye - naryadami, hotya i durnymi, _sshitymi_ po novoj mode, nekotorye - sokolami i gonchimi, nekotorye - loshad'yu, i kazhdomu nravu sootvetstvuet svoya otrada, v kotoroj on nahodit naslazhdenie prevyshe vsego; no eti chastnosti - ne moya merka; vse eto ya prevoshozhu v odnom, nailuchshem: tvoya lyubov' dlya menya luchshe vysokogo rozhdeniya, cennee bogatstva, velikolepnee dorogih naryadov, dostavlyaet bol'shee udovol'stvie, chem sokoly i loshadi, - i, obladaya toboj, ya hvalyus' vsem, chem gordyatsya lyudi, neschastnyj tol'ko tem, chto ty mozhesh' zabrat' _u menya_ vse eto, sdelav menya samym neschastnym. Inoj tak gord rozhdeniem svoim, Inoj - bogatstvom, siloj i umom, Inoj - odezhdoj, modoj oderzhim, Inoj - borzymi, sokolom, konem. CHto zh, kazhdomu svoe: kto v chem nahodit I schastie, i radost' bytiya. Menya zhe eto vse s uma ne svodit, Sovsem v drugom velich'e vizhu ya. Tvoya lyubov' vazhnej, chem znatnyj rod, Dorozhe zolota, zabav milej, Naryadnej prihoti kapriznyh mod, I s neyu ya - bogache korolej. No mozhesh' ty lishit' menya vseh blag, I v tot zhe mig ya stanu nishch i nag. Perevod A. Vasil'chikova Kto hvalitsya rozhden'em, kto - umen'em, Kto - zolotom, a kto - telesnoj siloj, Kto - ploho sshitym modnym oblachen'em, Kto - psami, sokolami il' kobyloj. Svoya est' radost' v sklonnosti lyuboj, Ona drugie v chem-to prevoshodit, No chastnosti ne vlastny nado mnoj, Kto luchshee i celoe nahodit. Tvoya lyubov' mne znatnosti vazhnej, Dorozhe zlata i odezhd glavnee, Milee sokolov, sobak, konej, I ya, toboj vladeya, vse imeyu. No eto vse sposoben ty otnyat', I ya nichtozhnym sdelayus' opyat'. Perevod V. Nikolaeva 92 But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end; I see a better state to me belongs Than that which on thy humour doth depend. Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, Since that my life on that revolt doth lie. O what a happy title do I find, Happy to have thy love, happy to die! But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. No sovershi hudshee - ukradi sebya _u menya_; _vse ravno_ na srok _moej_ zhizni ty verno [garantirovanno] moj, i moya zhizn' prodlitsya ne dol'she, chem tvoya lyubov', tak kak ona zavisit ot etoj tvoej lyubvi. Znachit, mne net nuzhdy opasat'sya hudshego iz zol, kogda v naimen'shem iz nih moya zhizn' najdet svoj konec; ya vizhu, chto moe polozhenie luchshe, _chem kazalos'_, - ono ne opredelyaetsya tvoim nastroeniem. Ty ne mozhesh' muchit' menya nepostoyanstvom dushi, tak kak _sama_ moya zhizn' zavisit ot tvoej peremeny. O, kakoe pravo na schast'e ya nahozhu - schast'e imet' tvoyu lyubov', schast'e umeret'! No est' li chto-to nastol'ko blagoslovenno prekrasnoe, chto ne boitsya pyatna? Ty mozhesh' byt' neveren, a ya - ne znat' ob etom. Rasstat'sya mne s toboj ne suzhdeno, I v zhizni ya ne budu odinok, Lyubov' i zhizn', kak celoe odno, Zakonchatsya v odin i tot zhe srok. Ne poboyus' ya naihudshih zol, Mne men'shee opasnee vsego; YA vizhu - bezvozvratno ya voshel V zavisimost' ot nrava tvoego. Nepostoyannaya dusha tvoya, Nadeyus', ne reshitsya mne solgat'. Kakoj schastlivyj zhrebij vybral ya, Schastlivym byt' i v schast'e umirat'. No schastie moe pyatnaet strah: Vdrug ya ne vizhu lzhi v tvoih slovah? Perevod A. Kuznecova Tebe ne skryt'sya ot moih ochej, Poka ya zhiv, - sud'ba svyazala nas; No net mne zhizni bez lyubvi tvoej; Razlyubish' ty - i ya umru totchas. Strashna li naihudshaya beda, Kol' men'shee iz zol menya ub'et? YA luchshego dostoin, chem vsegda Tvoi prichudy prinimat' v raschet Izmenoj ty ne mozhesh' dosadit' - V moment srazit menya takoj udar. O, schastliv ya toboj lyubimym byt' I schastliv budu smert' prinyat' kak dar! No est' li gde blazhenstvo bez pyatna? Boyus', ty lzhesh', i lozh' mne ne vidna. Perevod S. SHestakova 93 So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many's looks, the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, But heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; What e'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! Tak ya budu zhit', polagaya, chto ty veren, pohozhij na obmanutogo muzha; poetomu _vidimost'_ [lico] lyubvi mozhet po-prezhnemu kazat'sya mne lyubov'yu, hotya ona peremenilas', i _tol'ko_ tvoya vneshnost' so mnoj, _a_ tvoe serdce v drugom meste, - ved' v tvoih glazah ne mozhet zhit' nenavist', znachit, po nim ya ne mogu uznat' o peremene v tebe. Vo vneshnosti mnogih _lyudej_ istoriya nevernogo serdca napisana v nastroeniyah, strannyh grimasah i morshchinah, no pri sotvorenii tebya nebo postanovilo, chtoby v tvoem lice vsegda zhila sladostnaya lyubov', - kakimi by ni byli tvoi mysli ili dvizheniya serdca, tvoj vid dolzhen vyrazhat' tol'ko sladost'. Kak pohozhe na yabloko Evy proizrastaet tvoya krasota, esli tvoya dragocennaya dobrodetel' ne otvechaet tvoemu vidu! CHto zh, budu zhit', tebe poveriv vnov', Kak muzh obmanutyj. Ved' tak legko Lyubovnym vzglyadom podmenit' lyubov': Glaza so mnoj, a serdce daleko. Tvoj vzglyad ostalsya yasen i otkryt, On tot zhe, chto i den' nazad, i god. A u drugih ugryumyj strannyj vid Nevol'no ih izmenu vydaet. No nebesa rasporyadilis' tak, CHtoby lyubov' v lice tvoem zhila. Kakoj by v myslyah ni tailsya mrak, Tvoe lico ne vyrazhaet zla. Nesesh' ty krotko krasotu tvoyu, Toch'-v-toch' kak Eva - yabloko v rayu. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo CHto zh - vidno, rogonoscem mne togda Dni suzhdeno vlachit': lyubov' pochila! No vidimost' ee zhiva vsegda - Tvoj vzor gorit, hotya dusha ostyla; Glaza nevinny, i poprobuj v nih Podmetit' peremenu nastroen'ya - CHitaesh' pravdu na lice drugih: Vzglyad nedovol'nyj, na gubah - prezren'e. No inache reshili nebesa, Kogda tebya iskusno sozdavali: V dushe pogaslo plamya, no glaza Pylayut i ne vidno v nih pechali. Kak Evy yabloko, ty zla zalog: Krasivo razukrashennyj porok. Perevod I. Fradkina 94 {*} They that have pow'r to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow - They rightly do