Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. 'Fair, kind, and true' have often lived alone, Which three till now never kept seat in one. Pust' moyu lyubov' ne nazovut idolopoklonstvom i _pust'_ moj vozlyublennyj ne pokazhetsya idolom, ved' vse moi pesni i hvaly ravno _posvyashcheny_ odnomu, _poyutsya_ ob odnom, vsegda takovy i vechno neizmenny. Moj vozlyublennyj dobr segodnya, zavtra dobr, vsegda postoyanen v _svoem_ divnom sovershenstve; poetomu moi stihi, obrechennye na postoyanstvo, vyrazhaya _vsegda_ odno, isklyuchayut raznoobrazie. "Prekrasnyj, dobryj i vernyj" - vot vse soderzhanie _moih stihov_; "prekrasnyj, dobryj i vernyj" - var'iruyu _eto_ drugimi slovami, i na eti variacii tratitsya vse moe voobrazhenie, - tri temy v odnoj, chto daet divnye vozmozhnosti. "Prekrasnyj, dobryj i vernyj" - _eti kachestva_ vsegda sushchestvovali poodinochke, _vse_ tri nikogda ne pomeshchalis' v odnom _cheloveke_. Moya lyubov' - ne idolopoklonstvo. Ne idolu, a drugu moemu Moya hvala vse vremya vozdaetsya. Vse pesni - ob odnom i odnomu. Ty dobr ko mne v lyuboj iz etih dnej, CHudesnym postoyanstvom porazhaya, I stih, prikovan k vernosti tvoej, Zabyv pro vse, odno lish' vyrazhaet. Mil, veren, dobr - ya vnov' tebe poyu, Mil, veren, dobr - vot sut' vseh slov inyh. YA istoshchayu vydumku moyu, Menyaya vid treh vechnyh tem svoih. "Mil", "veren", "dobr" - tak chasto zhili vroz', Poka v odnom vse eto ne soshlos'. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Pust' idolopoklonstvom preklonen'e Pered toboj ne nazyvaet mir, Hot' vse hvaly, vse pesni, vse tvoren'ya - Vse dlya tebya, i ty odin - kumir. Vsesil'na magiya ocharovan'ya, Odnim toboj dusha moya polna: Ty s kazhdym dnem serdechnej v mig svidan'ya, I pesnya u menya vsegda odna. Poyu odno: "Prekrasen, dobr i veren!", "Prekrasen, dobr i veren!" - noch'yu, dnem Na vse lady ya povtoryat' nameren - Slilis' tri chuda v obraze odnom. "Prekrasen, dobr i veren!" - moj yazyk Kak klyatvu povtoryaet kazhdyj mig. Perevod I. Fradkina 106 When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest Wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring, And, for they looked but with divining eyes They had not skill enough your worth to sing: For we, which now behold these present days, Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. Kogda v letopisyah proshedshego vremeni ya vizhu opisaniya prekrasnejshih lyudej i vospevayushchie krasotu krasivye starinnye stihi, voshvalyayushchie umershih ocharovatel'nyh dam i galantnyh rycarej, togda v etom proslavlenii {*} luchshih obrazcov krasoty - ruk, nog, gub, glaz, lba - ya vizhu, chto drevnee pero stremilos' vyrazit' imenno takuyu krasotu, kakoj ty obladaesh' teper'. Tak chto vse ih hvaly - ne chto inoe, kak prorochestva _o nastuplenii_ nashego vremeni, predvoshishchayushchie tvoj obraz, i poskol'ku oni smotreli tol'ko myslennym vzorom, u nih ne hvatalo masterstva vospet' tvoe sovershenstvo, ved' _dazhe_ my; _voochiyu_ vidyashchie nyneshnee vremya, - _hotya_ u nas est' glaza, chtoby voshishchat'sya, - ne imeem yazyka, chtoby vozdat' hvalu. {* V originale - "blazon", chto mozhno perevesti kak "gerb", "emblema" ili "proslavlenie", "vystavlenie napokaz".} Kogda chitayu v knige dnej bylyh, Ostavshihsya za dal'neyu chertoj, Vo slavu dam prekrasnyj staryj stih, Na svet rozhdennyj yunoj krasotoj, YA dumayu, chto vovse ne staro Izobrazhenie glaz, resnic, brovej, CHto sladilo by drevnee pero, Pozhaluj, dazhe s krasotoj tvoej. I vot kolduyut drevnie slova, Oni predugadat' tebya hotyat. No krasota sil'nee koldovstva, I delo ne idet u nih na lad. Ty zdes', ty s nami, no ved' i u nas YAzyk ne peredast, chto vidit glaz. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Listaya pozheltevshie stranicy, Na rycarej smotryu, prekrasnyh dam - Ih krasotoj proslavlennye lica Pod stat' samim vozvyshennym stiham. YA ponimayu, chto tvorcy predanij, O prelestyah nevidannyh trubya, Lanity vospevaya, ochi, dlani - Vpolne mogli proslavit' i tebya. Ih pohvaly prorochestvami stali, Predviden'em gryadushchej krasoty, No dazhe im dostalo b slov edva li, CHtob zasverkali vse tvoi cherty. A nyne te, komu glaza dany, Bessil'ny: dara slova lisheny. Perevod I. Fradkina 107 Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come, Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured And the sad augurs mock their own presage, Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since spite of him I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. Ni moi sobstvennye strahi, ni prorocheskaya dusha vsego mira, voobrazhaya gryadushchee, vse zhe ne mogut opredelit' srok moej istinnoj lyubvi, polagaya ee ogranichennoj _rokovym_ predelom {*}. Smertnaya luna perezhila [ispytala] svoe zatmenie {**}, i mrachnye avgury smeyutsya nad sobstvennym prorochestvom; to, chto bylo neopredelennym, teper' _torzhestvuet_ [venchaetsya koronoj], stav nadezhnym, i mir provozglashaet olivy na vechnoe vremya {***}. Teper', s kaplyami etogo celitel'nejshego vremeni, moya lyubov' vyglyadit svezhej, i Smert' mne podchinyaetsya, tak kak vopreki ej ya budu zhit' v etih bednyh stihah, poka ona zlobno torzhestvuet nad tupymi i bez®yazykimi plemenami. I ty v etom _moem tvorchestve_ obretesh' sebe pamyatnik, kogda gerby i grobnicy tiranov istleyut. {* Po edinodushnomu mneniyu issledovatelej, sonet 107 soderzhit nameki na vazhnye vneshnie obstoyatel'stva. Tak, stroki 3-4, vozmozhno, namekayut na osvobozhdenie iz tyur'my adresata sonetov, kotorym schitaetsya libo lord Sautgempton, libo lord Pembruk (oba byli v raznoe vremya podvergnuty tyuremnomu zaklyucheniyu po politicheskim prichinam). Otsyuda sleduyut raznye vyvody otnositel'no datirovki soneta, poskol'ku Pembruk byl osvobozhden v marte ili aprele 1601 g., a Sautgempton - v aprele 1603 g. ** Pod "smertnoj lunoj" obychno ponimayut korolevu Elizavetu, odnako, otnositel'no "zatmeniya" mneniya kommentatorov rashodyatsya. Vozmozhno, SHekspir imel v vidu razgrom ispanskoj Armady, podavlenie zagovora ili vyzdorovlenie korolevy posle bolezni, s drugoj storony, rech' mogla idti o ee smerti v 1603 g. (Delo oslozhnyaetsya tem, chto glagol "endure" mozhno istolkovat' kak "perezhila", "preodolela", ili kak "ispytala", "poterpela", i vo vtorom sluchae on mog byt' upotreblen primenitel'no k sobytiyu, imevshemu negativnyj itog.) *** V zavisimosti ot istolkovaniya (sm. predydushchuyu snosku), v strokah 7-8 mozhno videt' ukazanie libo na preodolenie Elizavetoj kakogo-libo krizisa, libo na posledovavshee za ee smert'yu vosshestvie na prestol korolya YAkova I. V chem by ni zaklyuchalos' eto sobytie, avtor soneta govorit o nem v samom radostnom i vozvyshennom duhe, ochevidno svyazyvaya s nim i svoi lichnye nadezhdy.} Ni strah moj, ni predchuvstviya serdec U mira v grezah i ob®yat'yah sna Ne znayut, budet li lyubvi konec - Lyubvi, ch'ya smert' byla predreshena Svoe zatmen'e smertnaya luna Perezhila prorochestvam nazlo, Korona vnov' nadezhde otdana, Olivam snova mirno i teplo. Lyubov' svezha, i smert' nam ne strashna, Bessmert'e ty nesesh' moim stiham, A smert' - smert' ogranichit vremena Tupym i besslovesnym plemenam. Perezhivesh' ty v vechnosti stihov Gerby carej i zoloto krestov. Perevod A. Kuznecova Ni strah moj, ni vselenskij duh-prorok, CH'e t'mu vremen pronizyvaet oko, Lyubvi moej mne ne ukazhet srok, Hotya ya znayu - ty so mnoj do sroka. Zatmilas' tiho smertnaya luna, Prorochestva avgurov vyshli lzhivy; Uverennost' na tron vozvedena, I vechnye ob®yavleny olivy. I eto vse - bal'zam na rany mne, Lyubov' moya na vid svezhee snova; YA ne umru s drugimi naravne, Kotorye v vekah ne imut slova. V stihah i ty prebudesh' - i skorej Padut grobnicy i vency carej. Perevod S. Stepanova 108 What's in the brain that ink may character Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What's new to speak, what new to register, That may express my love, or thy dear merit? Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, I must, each day say o'er the very same, Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name. So that eternal love in love's fresh case Weighs not the dust and injury of age, Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, But makes antiquity for aye his page, Finding the first conceit of love there bred, Where time and outward form would show it dead. CHto est' v mozgu _takogo_, chto chernila mogut vyrazit' _na pis'me_, chego ne izobrazil tebe _v stihah_ moj vernyj duh? CHto novogo mozhno skazat', chto novogo zapisat' _takogo_, chto sposobno vyrazit' moyu lyubov' ili tvoe dragocennoe dostoinstvo? Nichego, milyj mal'chik; i vse zhe, kak bozhestvennye molitvy, ya dolzhen kazhdyj den' povtoryat' to zhe samoe, ne schitaya nichego starogo starym, _kak, naprimer, to_, chto ty moj| _a_ ya tvoj, tak zhe kak togda, kogda ya vpervye blagoslovil tvoe prekrasnoe imya. Tak chto vechnaya lyubov', v novom odeyanii {*} lyubvi, ne prinimaet vo vnimanie prah i ushcherb starosti _i_ ne daet mesta neizbezhnym morshchinam, no delaet drevnost' navechno svoim slugoj [pazhom], nahodya _novoe_ zarozhdenie pervoj lyubvi tam, gde iz-za vremeni i _brennoj_ vneshnosti ona pokazalas' by mertvoj. {* Upotreblennoe v originale slovosochetanie "fresh case" dopuskaet razlichnye tolkovaniya. Pomimo "novogo odeyaniya", pod kotorym sleduet ponimat' novoe vyrazhenie lyubvi v stihah, issledovatelyami predlagalis' varianty: "novye obstoyatel'stva", "novoe postizhenie lyubvi" i dr.} Kak moj rassudok s pomoshch'yu chernil Tebe prines by novuyu prisyagu I novuyu hvalu prisochinil, A tam ee zanes by na bumagu? Nikak, moj mal'chik. Vse - v stroke odnoj, I, kak molitvu, ya tverzhu ee, Hot' net v nej novizny: ty moj, ya tvoj S teh por, kak imya proiznes tvoe. Ne hochet priznavat' moih nevzgod Tvoya lyubov', nevinna i svezha, Morshchinam novym mesta ne daet, Moyu gonyaet drevnost', kak pazha. I budet tam ogon' lyubvi goret', Gde ej davno pora by umeret'. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo CHto v myslyah? Kak chernila peredat' Pomogut tvoj pravdivyj, milyj lik? CHto novogo skazat', chtob pokazat' Kakih v lyubvi predelov ty dostig? Net, nichego, rodnoj moj, kazhdyj raz YA, kak molitvu, budu povtoryat', CHto znayut vse, bez slavy i prikras, I imya svetloe blagoslovlyat'. Tak, vechnaya lyubov', rozhdayas' vnov', Ne budet dryahloj smorshchennoj kargoj, YUna, kak yunost', vechnaya lyubov' I drevnost' delaet svoej raboj. Tam novaya lyubov' vozrozhdena, Gde dumayut - lyubov' umershchvlena. Perevod A. Kuznecova 109 O never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seemed my flame to qualify; As easy might I from my self depart As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: That is my home of love. If I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reigned All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stained To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. O, nikogda ne govori, chto ya byl neveren serdcem, hotya razluka, kazalos', umerila vo mne ogon' _strasti_; mne legche bylo by rasstat'sya s samim soboj, chem s moej dushoj, kotoraya nahoditsya v tvoej grudi. Tam dom moej lyubvi. Esli ya _i_ bluzhdal, _to_, podobno, tomu kto puteshestvuet, ya vozvrashchayus' tochno v srok, ne izmenivshis' s vremenem, tak chto _ya_ sam prinoshu vodu dlya _smytiya_ pyatna _izmeny_. Nikogda ne ver' - hotya v moej nature carili vse slabosti, osazhdayushchie vseh lyudej [vsyakuyu krov'], - chto ona mogla byt' tak nelepo isporchena [zapyatnana], chtoby promenyat' ni na chto vsyu summu dobra, _voploshchennogo_ v tebe. YA govoryu, chto ves' etot mir - nichto, za isklyucheniem tebya, moya roza; v etom _mire_ ty dlya menya vse. O, ne skazhi, chto serdcem ya solgal I strast' razlukoj sozhzhena dotla. Byvalo, o sebe ya zabyval - Moya dusha v tvoej grudi zhila. Ty - hram lyubvi, gde moj hranitsya pyl, I potomu ya vremya prevozmog, I vozvrashchayus' tem zhe, kem i byl, I u dverej smyvayu pyl' dorog. Net, nikogda ne zhdi izmeny ty I, hot' poroki vse vo mne najdesh', Ne ver', chto mog ya svetoch dobroty Otdat' postydno za nichtozhnyj grosh. Ne stal by zhit' ya v etom carstve lzhi, Kogda b ne ty, cvetok moej dushi! Perevod B. Kushnera YA ne izmennik, ne vini menya: Razluka, mol, prichina ohlazhden'ya. Ved', dushu ya v tvoej grudi hranya, Ne broshu sam sebya bez sozhalen'ya. Ved' tut moj dom, i ya vernulsya vnov', I bolee otsyuda ya - ni shagu: Ne iznosilas' po puti lyubov', I pyatna smyt' svoi prines ya vlagu. I pust' porok techet v moej krovi, No vse zh ne stol' moi uzhasny pyatna, CHtob dragocennyj dom svoej lyubvi YA promenyal i ne prishel obratno. Bez miloj rozy, bez tebya, moj drug, Ves' mir - nichto i pusto vse vokrug. Perevod S. Stepanova 110 Alas 'tis true, I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new. Most true it is that I have looked on truth Askance and strangely; but, by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love. Now all is done, have what shall have no end: Mine appetite I never more will grind On newer proof, to try an older friend, A god in love, to whom I am confined. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. Uvy, eto pravda: ya snoval tuda-syuda i delal iz sebya shuta v glazah _lyudej_, urodoval {*} sobstvennye mysli, prodaval zadeshevo samoe dorogoe tvoril starye grehi iz novyh privyazannostej. Istinnaya pravda to, chto ya smotrel na pravdu [vernost'] s podozreniem i kak chuzhoj; no, _klyanus'_ vsem vysshim, eti zabluzhdeniya dali moemu serdcu vtoruyu molodost', i hudshie ispytaniya dokazali, chto ty - moya luchshaya lyubov'. Teper' s etim pokoncheno; _ty_ imeesh' to, chto ne budet imet' konca; svoj appetit ya bol'she ne budu zaostryat' novymi ispytaniyami, proveryaya starogo druga, boga v lyubvi, k kotoromu ya privyazan [prikovan]. Tak primi menya, dlya menya ustupayushchij tol'ko nebesam, v svoyu chistuyu i samuyu-samuyu lyubyashchuyu grud'. {* V originale - "gored". Glagol "gore" v sovremennom yazyke upotreblyaetsya glavnym obrazom primenitel'no k zhivotnym, v znacheniyah "bodat' (rogom)", "pronzat' (klykom)", odnako v epohu SHekspira on imel bolee shirokij spektr znachenij: "pronzat'", "rezat'", "rubit'" (ostrym oruzhiem i pr.). Drugoj osnovoj dlya interpretacii mozhet sluzhit' sushchestvitel'noe "gore" - "klin", v tom chisle klin, vstavlyaemyj v odezhdu dlya rasstavki. Ishodya iz etogo znacheniya, frazu "gored mine own thoughts" mozhno istolkovat' kak "urodoval sobstvennye tvoren'ya (chuzherodnymi) vstavkami)" S drugoj storony, narochito shirokie, yarkie klin'ya byli harakterny dlya odezhdy shutov, poetomu vozmozhno eshche prochtenie: "pridaval shutovskoe oblich'e sobstvennym myslyam".} Uvy, vse tak, - ya zhil shutom pustym, Kolpak vezde taskaya za soboyu, Kalechil mysl', i torgoval svyatym, I oskorblyal odnu lyubov' drugoyu. Da, eto tak. YA k pravde zhil spinoj, Vo lzhi podozreval ee, i vse zhe - Vernul mne yunost' gor'kij opyt moj I istinu, chto ty vsego dorozhe. Konec vsemu, no net lyubvi konca! Primi zhe pyl moej voskresshej strasti, K chemu draznit' nezrelye serdca - Ved' ty moj bog vo vsem velich'i vlasti! Na lyubyashchej grudi, gde svet nebes vidnej, Ukroj menya ot zloj sud'by moej. Perevod B. Kushnera Uvy, napyaliv shutovskoj kostyum, To tut, to tam menyaya ubezhden'ya, Sbyval ya chuvstva i nevolil um, I, v novye brosayas' pohozhden'ya, YA starye obidy umnozhal; No umopomrachen'e minovalo, YA, otgreshiv, vnov' molod serdcem stal - Za gody bed pora lyubvi nastala: Tvoim dostoinstvam predela net, I druzhbu staruyu ya ne pozvolyu Ispytyvat' otnyne, hvatit bed! Ty - bog Lyubvi, ya u tebya v nevole! Daj mesto u nebesnogo ognya: Svoej dushoyu otogrej menya. Perevod I. Fradkina 111 O for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: Pity me then, and wish I were renewed, Whilst like a willing patient I will drink Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection; No bitterness that I will bitter think, Nor double penance to correct correction. Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye Even that your pity is enough to cure me. O, za menya brani Fortunu, boginyu, vinovnuyu v moih durnyh postupkah, kotoraya ne obespechila moyu zhizn' nichem luchshim, chem publichnye sredstva, porozhdayushchie publichnoe [vul'garnoe, nizkoe] povedenie {*}. Otsyuda - to, chto moe imya poluchaet klejmo, i v rezul'tate moya natura pochti _pogloshchena_ [podchinena] tem, sredi chego ona truditsya, kak ruka krasil'shchika. Pozhalej zhe menya i pozhelaj, chtoby ya vozrodilsya, a ya, kak poslushnyj pacient, budu pit' uksusnye nastojki protiv moego sil'nogo zarazheniya; nikakaya gorech' mne ne pokazhetsya gor'koj ili dvojnym nakazaniem dlya ispravleniya uzhe ispravlennogo. Pozhalej zhe menya, dorogoj drug, i ya uveryayu tebya, chto odnoj tvoej zhalosti dostatochno, chtoby izlechit' menya. {* Bol'shinstvo kommentatorov interpretiruyut "publichnye sredstva" kak zarabotok aktera ili dramaturga. Po etoj versii, poet zdes' opravdyvaet svoi predosuditel'nye postupki nizkimi nravami publiki, kotorye on ponevole usvaivaet v silu svoej publichnoj professii.} Sud'bu ty spravedlivo upreknesh', Branya moi grehovnye dela, CHto znal ya tol'ko licedejstva lozh', A luchshego sud'ba mne ne dala. I vot klejmo na imeni moem, Da i na oblike, ved' po rukam Krasil'shchika my srazu uznaem. No pozhalej - i vyberus' ya sam. Lyuboe zel'e zhadno proglochu, Mne lish' by odolet' moyu zarazu. Pust' budet gorech' - znat' ya ne hochu, Ne probuyu, a prinimayu srazu. Ty pozhalej, moj drug, menya hot' malost', I moj nedug tvoya izlechit zhalost'. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Ty prav, moj drug, sud'bu moyu vinya, CHto seti rasstavlyala predo mnoyu, V kotoryh zhar dushi rastratil ya Za sveta podayanie pustoe. Na chest' moyu pozoryashchem pyatnom Leglo moe zanyatie - tak ruki Krasil'shchika my srazu uznaem. Bud' miloserden: otpusti mne muki. Lechit'sya ot neduga ya gotov Hot' uksusom; ya rad lyuboj otrave, Priemlya ot tebya bez lishnih slov Lekarstvo, chto naznachit' ty lish' vprave. Lyubeznyj drug, sochuvstvie tvoe - Iz milyh ust - celebnoe pit'e. Perevod V. Tarzaevoj 112 Your love and pity doth th'impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow, For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to me, nor I to none alive, That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong. In so profound abysm I throw all care Of others' voices, that my adder's sense To critic and to flatterer stopped are. Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: You are so strongly in my purpose bred That all the world besides methinks th'are dead. Tvoya lyubov' i zhalost' sglazhivayut klejmo, kotoroe vul'garnyj skandal otpechatal na moem lbu, ibo chto mne za delo, kto govorit obo mne horosho ili durno, esli ty maskiruesh' {*} durnoe vo mne i dopuskaesh' horoshee? Ty dlya menya - ves' mir, i ya dolzhen starat'sya uznat' svoi postydnye i pohval'nye storony s tvoih slov. Nikto drugoj dlya menya _ne sushchestvuet_, ni ya ni dlya kogo ne sushchestvuyu, chtoby izmenit' moe ukorenivsheesya [stavshee stal'nym] vospriyatie horoshego ili durnogo {**}. V takuyu glubokuyu bezdnu ya brosayu vsyakuyu zabotu o drugih _mneniyah_ [golosah], chto moj sluh gadyuki dlya kritika i l'steca zatvoren {***}. Smotri, kak ya opravdyvayu svoe prenebrezhenie: ty tak sil'no zapechatlen v moih myslyah, chto ves' ostal'noj mir, kazhetsya mne, mertv. {* V originale - "overgreen"; The Oxford English Dictionary tolkuet etot glagol kak "prikryvat', skryvat' defekt" i fiksiruet ego upotreblenie tol'ko u SHekspira. ** Putanoe sintaksicheski i ne sovsem yasnoe po smyslu, predlozhenie v strokah 7-8 vyzyvaet spory kommentatorov. *** Schitalos', chto gadyuka obladaet ochen' ostrym sluhom, no mozhet izolirovat' sebya ot zvukov, lozhas' odnim uhom na zemlyu i zatykaya drugoe hvostom, takim obrazom stanovyas' na vremya gluhoj.} Bal'zam mne na klejmenoe chelo Tvoya lyubov' i nezhnoe uchast'e. Kto b ni ryadil menya v dobro i zlo, V tvoej lish' pohvale vzyskuyu schast'ya. Ty dlya menya ves' mir! Glavu sklonya, Stydit' i slavit' nadelyayu pravom, YA mertv dlya vseh, mertvy vse dlya menya, Lish' ty sud'ya delam moim nepravym. Molvu brosayu v bezdnu nemoty, Moj sluh gadyuchij ej teper' ne vnemlet. Ni lesti, ni besstydnoj klevety Moya gluhaya sovest' ne priemlet. YA zhazhdu tol'ko slova tvoego, Vse ostal'noe, mnitsya mne, mertvo. Perevod S. Stepanova Klejmo, zloj klevety pozornyj sled, Tvoya dobrozhelatel'nost' stiraet, Na luchshee vo mne brosaet svet I vse moi iz®yany zatemnyaet. ZHiv tol'ko dlya tebya, ya mertv dlya vseh, Ty - mir ves', lish' tebya ya ponimayu: Ty skazhesh': "greh", ya soglashayus' - "greh", Hvalu ili hulu - vse prinimayu. SHvyrnul ya zvuki mira nakonec V gluhuyu bezdnu: gluh ya, kak gadyuka, Ne strashen mne ni klevetnik, ni l'stec, No ne pechal'sya - ne lishen ya sluha. Mir vymer dlya menya - k nemu ya gluh: Ty dlya menya i zrenie, i sluh. Perevod I. Fradkina 113 Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind, And that which governs me to go about Doth part his function, and is partly blind, Seems seeing, but effectually is out; For it no form delivers to the heart Of bird, of flow'r, or shape, which it doth latch: Of his quick objects hath the mind no part; Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, The mountain, or the sea, the day, or. night, The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature. Incapable of more, replete with you, My most true mind thus maketh mine eye untrue. S teh por kak ya ostavil tebya, moi glaza - v moej dushe, a te, kotorye napravlyayut menya v peredvizheniyah, rasstalis' so svoej funkciej i otchasti slepy - kazhutsya vidyashchimi, no po-nastoyashchemu ne dejstvuyut, tak kak oni ne donosyat do serdca nikakoj formy pticy, cvetka ili tela, kotoryh oni zapechatlevayut; v ih bystryh ob®ektah dusha ne uchastvuet, i samo ih zrenie ne uderzhivaet togo, chto ulavlivaet, potomu chto, vidyat li oni samoe gruboe ili samoe izyskannoe zrelishche, samoe priyatnoe {*} ili samoe urodlivoe sozdanie, gory ili more, den' ili noch', voronu ili golubya, - oni vsemu pridayut tvoi cherty. Nesposobnaya _vmestit'_ bol'she, polnaya toboj, moya istinno vernaya dusha delaet moi glaza nevernymi. {* Priblizitel'noe istolkovanie. Po mneniyu nekotoryh kommentatorov, eto opredelenie v originale sleduet chitat' kak "sweet-favour'd"; vprochem, smysl pri etom ostaetsya ne vpolne yasnym.} Pust' ty vdali, tvoj lik vo mne zhivet, - V moej dushe prekrasnoe viden'e: Prikazy mozgu glaz ne otdaet, I ya lishen napolovinu zren'ya. Glaz lovit pticu, oblako, cvetok, No chuditsya dushe odno i to zhe, Uvy, drugoe videt' nevdomek, I mnitsya to, chto ej vsego dorozhe. Vorona, golub', gory, i lesa, I svet, i mgla, i merzkie sozdan'ya - Tvoj oblik prinimaet vse i vsya, I vse vokrug polno ocharovan'ya. Kogda lyubov' pronikla gluboko, Vlyublennyj glaz obmanetsya legko. Perevod I. Fradkina Rasstalis' my - i pamyat' okom stala, A oko, chto. vedet menya v puti, Sposobnost' k razlichen'yu poteryalo, Glyadit vokrug, a tolku net pochti. 0no do serdca ne donosit vid Ni vstrechnyh lic, ni ptic i ni cvetov: Moj vzglyad po nim bespamyatno skol'zit, CHto ni ulovit - upustit' gotov. Ravno - gora pred nim il' okean, Lik chudnyj il' besformennaya gruda, Svet ili sumrak, golub' ili vran, - Tvoi cherty on uznaet povsyudu. Mne pamyat' odnogo tebya yavlyaet, I etim svetom vzor moj osleplyaet. Perevod D. SHCHedrovickogo 114 Or whether doth my mind being crowned with you Drink-up the monarch's plague, this flattery? Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true, And that your love taught it this alchemy, To make of monsters, and things indigest. Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, Creating every bad a perfect best, As fast as objects to his beams assemble? O 'tis the first; 'tis flatt'ry in my seeing, And my great mind most kingly drinks it up; Mine eye well knows what with his gust is greeing, And to his palate doth prepare the cup. If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. Moya li dusha, koronovannaya toboj {*}, _zhadno_ p'et etu chumu monarhov, lest'? Ili mne sleduet skazat', chto moi glaza govoryat pravdu i eto lyubov' k tebe nauchila ih takoj alhimii, chtoby delat' iz chudovishch, i sozdanij besformennyh takih heruvimov, kotorye napominayut tvoe miloe sushchestvo, sozdavaya iz vsego plohogo nailuchshee, kak tol'ko predmety sobirayutsya v ih luchah? {**} O, _verno_ pervoe: eto _vinovata_ lest' v moem zrenii, i moya velikaya dusha po-korolevski vypivaet ee; moi glaza horosho znayut, chto dostavit ej udovol'stvie, i prigotovlyayut chashu po vkusu. Esli ona otravlena, to eto men'shij greh, tak kak glaza lyubyat eto _pit'e_ i nachinayut _vkushat'_ pervymi. {* T. e. vozvyshennaya do korolevskogo dostoinstva tvoej druzhboj. ** Sm. primechanie k perevodu soneta 43.} Byt' mozhet, moj rassudok uvenchal Monarshij, lest'yu sozdannyj, venec? Ili moj glaz, blestyashchij ot pohval, Gotov sozdat' chudesnyj obrazec? Toboj obuchen magii lyubvi, Iz monstrov i besformennyh veshchej On angelov - podobiya tvoi - Vossozdaet v siyanii luchej? Net. Vse zhe lest'. V soznanii moem Glaz ugodit' staraetsya umu I, vpityvaya znaniya o nem, Gotovit yad po vkusu moemu. Pit' yad lyubvi ne samyj tyazhkij greh, I glaz moj nachinaet ran'she vseh. Perevod A. Kuznecova Uzhel' moya dusha hvaloj tvoej Otravlena, kak koroleva, lest'yu? Il' to Lyubov' - vsesil'nyj charodej! - Vzor udostoila vysokoj chesti? Il' ya alhimik? - moj vlyublennyj glaz Uroda prevrashchaet v heruvima, CHto na tebya pohodit kazhdyj raz, I - eto volshebstvo nepobedimo? Uvy, dogadka pervaya verna: Moej dushe otnyne lest' po nravu, I vzor, kotoromu dusha vidna, Ej predlagaet carskuyu otravu. YAd tonkoj lesti prepodnosit glaz, No pervym sam prigubit vsyakij raz. Perevod I. Fradkina 115 Those lines that I before have writ do lie, Even those that said I could not love you dearer; Yet then my judgment knew no reason why My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. But reckoning Time, whose millioned accidents Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, Divert strong minds to th'course of alt'ring things - Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny, Might I not then say 'Now I love you best', When I was certain o'er incertainty, Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? Love is a babe: then might I not say so, To give full growth to that which still doth grow. Te stroki, kotorye ya napisal do etogo, lgali - _imenno_ te, v kotoryh govorilos', chto ya ne mogu lyubit' tebya sil'nee, no togda moj um ne znal prichiny, po kotoroj moe gorevshee v polnuyu silu plamya dolzhno bylo potom razgoret'sya _eshche_ yarche No, prinimaya vo vnimanie Vremya, ch'i beschislennye [millionnye] sluchajnosti pronikayut mezhdu obetami i menyayut ukazy korolej, portyat {*} svyashchennuyu krasotu, prituplyayut samye ostrye namereniya, sklonyayut samye sil'nye dushi na put' nepostoyanstva, - uvy, pochemu, opasayas' tiranii Vremeni, ne mog ya togda skazat': "Sejchas ya lyublyu tebya sil'nee vsego", kogda ya byl uveren _v etom_ vne vsyakih somnenij, _prevoznosya_ [koronuya] nastoyashchee _i_ somnevayas' otnositel'no ostal'nogo? Lyubov' - ditya; poetomu ya ne mog tak govorit', pripisyvaya polnyj rost tomu, chto vechno rastet. {* V originale - "tan", bukval'no: "delat' temnym i grubym, pohozhim na dublenuyu kozhu".} Vse stroki, mnoj napisannye, lgut, I dazhe ta, chto net lyubvi sil'nee. Ne mog ya znat' - takie dni pridut, CHto zapylaet moj ogon' yasnee. No vremya, v kom sluchajnosti raschet Menyat' gotov ukazy korolej, Ono krasu svyashchennuyu ub'et, Zovya umy razrushit' hod veshchej. YA, tiranii vremeni boyas', Molchal by, chto sil'na lyubov' moya. No dal ya dnyam togdashnim tol'ko vlast', A v ostal'nom tak somnevalsya ya. Lyubov' - malysh. Nel'zya proiznesti Pro vysshij rost, ved' ej eshche rasti. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Te stroki, chto pisal ya prezhde, lgali - Ved' o lyubvi moej v nih govoritsya, CHto ej ne stat' sil'nej. YA mog edva li Znat', chto ogon' moj yarche razgoritsya. Tayashchee prevratnostej mil'ony, I korolej dekrety Vremya rushit, Vozvodit vsem nameren'yam zaslony, K izmene sil'nye sklonyaet dushi. Togda, boyas' ego zhestokoj vlasti, Ne vprave li skazat' ya byl: "Teper' ya Sil'nej vsego lyublyu tebya", napasti Predchuvstvuya i lish' mgnoven'yu verya? Lyubov' bol'shoj nazval ya gordelivo, Ona zh - ditya, chto vse rastet