Vill odin ne v schet. Bez imeni v tolpe ya propadu, Hot' i vnesen ya v obshchee chislo. Nichto menya ne derzhit na vidu, Pust' chto-to ot tebya so mnoj ushlo. No imya ty lyubi. V nem moshchnyj pyl Tvoeyu volej. Volya - eto Vill. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo SHepni svoej slepoj dushe: "Uill", CHtob blizost'yu so mnoj ne vozmushchalas', CHtob otvergat' menya ne stalo sil I chtob zhelala ty menya hot' malost'. Kogda zhelan'ya hlynut cherez kraj, Pust' i moe v sokrovishchnicu l'etsya: Odin tolpu popolnit nevznachaj, Ved' mesto odnomu vsegda najdetsya. Znaj: ya - nichto - ne uvelichu schet, No, chto-to znacha, ya mechtu leleyu: Cena tvoih vladenij vozrastet, Kogda tebe sebya otdat' sumeyu. Ty tol'ko imya polyubi - "Uill", - ZHelannym budu srazu: stanu mil. Perevod I. Fradkina 137 Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, That they behold, and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies, Yet what the best is take the worst to be. If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks, Be anchored in the bay where all men ride, Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied? Why should my heart think that a several plot, Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, To put fair truth upon so foul a face? In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, And to this false plague are they now transferred. Lyubov', slepoj glupec [shut], chto ty sdelala s moimi glazami, chto oni smotryat, no ne vidyat togo, chto vidyat? Oni znayut, chto takoe krasota, vidyat, gde ona nahoditsya, i vse zhe luchshee prinimayut za hudshee. Esli glazam, isporchennym slishkom pristrastnymi vzglyadami, suzhdeno vstat' na yakore v toj zhe buhte, chto i drugie muzhchiny, to pochemu iz nevernosti glaz ty vykovala kryuch'ya, k kotorym prikovan zdravyj smysl moego serdca? Pochemu moe serdce polagaet otdel'nym [ogorozhennym] uchastkom to, chto, kak izvestno serdcu, yavlyaetsya obshchim vladeniem dlya vseh krugom? Ili - _pochemu_ moi glaza, vidya eto, govoryat, chto eto ne tak, chtoby prikryt' vernost'yu [dobrodetel'yu] takoe otvratitel'noe lico? V tom, chto bylo podlinno vernym [dobrodetel'nym], moe serdce i glaza zabluzhdalis', i teper' oni predany etoj napasti fal'shi. Skazhi, Lyubov' slepaya, ty zachem Glaza uchila zryachej slepote? Oni glyadyat vovsyu, a mezhdu tem Ne doveryayut yavnoj krasote. I esli gavan' ih nepravdy tam, Kuda plyvem my vse do odnogo, Zachem daesh' ih kovanym kryukam Zachalit' sovest' serdca moego? Zachem svoej usad'boj nazyvat' Obshchinnoe vladenie, skazhi? Zachem lichinu pravdy nadevat' Na podloe lico zavzyatoj lzhi? Glaza i serdce, brosiv put' pryamoj, Boleyut etoj fal'sh'yu, kak chumoj. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Meshaet mne lyubvi slepaya sila Uvidet' to, chto vizhu nayavu. Ne krasota glaza moi plenila, A to, chto krasotoj ne nazovu. Vlekomyj lozh'yu cherez okeany, Gde ne odin skitalsya ekipazh, Fal'shivyj vzor moj v gavani obmana Moe zhe serdce vzyal na abordazh. Zachem ya predstavlyal sebe pustynyu Roskoshnym sadom serdca moego? I pochemu voobrazhal boginyu, Vziraya na pustoe sushchestvo? YA slovno pogruzhen v chumnoj tuman: Glaza mne lgut, i na serdce obman. Perevod YU. Lifshica 138 When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed. But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love loves not t'have years told. Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be. Kogda moya lyubov' klyanetsya, chto ona sozdana iz vernosti, ya ej veryu, hotya znayu, chto ona lzhet, - chto ona, vozmozhno, schitaet menya kakim-to naivnym yuncom nesvedushchim v lovkoj fal'shi mira. Tak, tshcheslavno verya, chto ona schitaet menya yunym, hotya ona znaet, chto moi luchshie dni pozadi, ya prostodushno beru na veru ee lzhivyj yazyk, i obeimi storonami prostaya istina skryvaetsya. No otchego ona ne govorit, chto ona neverna, i otchego ya ne govoryu, chto ya star? O, luchshaya odezhda {*} lyubvi - v pokaznom doverii, a vlyublennaya starost' ne lyubit, kogda nazyvayut gody. Poetomu ya lgu ej, a ona - mne, i v svoih iz®yanah my lozh'yu pol'shcheny. {* V originale - "habit", chto mozhet oznachat' takzhe "privychka", "obyknovenie".} Kogda mne milaya klyanetsya v tom, CHto v nej pravdivo vse, ej veryu ya, Hot' vizhu: lzhet ona i mnit tajkom Neiskushennym yunoshej menya. Priyatno yunym slyt', hot' znayu sam I ej izvestno: minul moj rassvet, No hochetsya vnimat' ee slovam - I, znachit, pravdy v nas oboih net. Zachem ej byt' neiskrennej opyat'? Zachem zhe mne skryvat' svoi goda? Lyubov' na veru nado prinimat', A vozrast nenavisten ej vsegda. I tak my lzhem odin pered drugim, I v miloj serdcu lzhi sebe my l'stim. Perevod A. Vasil'chikova Kogda ona mne klyatvy rastochaet, YA veryu, hot' i znayu: eto lozh'. Ona menya za mal'chika schitaet, Kotorogo vkrug pal'ca obvedesh'. I raz ona menya schitaet yunym, Hot' znaet, chto dni yunosti proshli, YA veryu ej v tshcheslavii bezumnom - My oba s nej ot pravdy otoshli. No pochemu ej ne priznat' izmeny? I chto ya star, priznayu ya togda. O, kto lyubim, kazat'sya hochet vernym, Vlyublennyj zabyvaet pro goda. I v etoj lzhi my s neyu vozlezhim I lozh'yu toj, kak lest'yu, dorozhim. Perevod V. Nikolaeva 139 O call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside; What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'erpressed defense can bide? Let me excuse thee: 'Ah, my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.' Yet do not so, but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain. O, ne prizyvaj menya opravdat' zlo, kotoroe tvoya zhestokost' vozlagaet na moe serdce; ran' menya ne svoimi glazami, a yazykom, ispol'zuj _svoyu_ silu kak silu, ne ubivaj menya ulovkami. Govori mne, chto ty lyubish' drugih, no na moih glazah, dusha moya, ne brosaj vzglyad na storonu. CHto za nuzhda tebe ranit' hitrost'yu, kogda tvoe mogushchestvo? prevoshodit to, chto moya podavlennaya oborona mozhet vyderzhat'?.. Daj mne izvinit' tebya _tak_: "Ah, moya lyubov' horosho znaet, chto ee prelestnye vzglyady byli moimi vragami, i poetomu ot moego lica ona otvodit moih nepriyatelej, chtoby oni nanosili svoi rany drugim". No ne delaj etogo, a poskol'ku ya pochti ubit, ubej menya sovsem svoimi vzglyadami i izbav' menya ot boli. Ne opravdayu to, k chemu privyk, - Tvoyu zhestokost' k serdcu moemu. No pust' ne glaz tvoj ranit, a yazyk: Otkrytyj boj ohotnee primu. Pust' lyubish' ty drugogo, no pri mne Ne nuzhno vzglyadami ego tomit'. K chemu obman, raz mozhesh' ty vpolne Moyu zashchitu slabuyu slomit'? I vse zhe ty prava: tvoj vzglyad - moj vrag, I vot ty otsylaesh' vzglyady proch', Velish' ne zadevat' menya nikak, Gubit' drugih i etim mne pomoch'. No vse sil'nej lyubovnyj moj nedug. Ubej zhe vzglyadom i izbav' ot muk. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Opravdyvat' tebya ya ne privyk, Ne priterpelsya k zhestochajshim ranam; Ne ran' menya ochami - est' yazyk, Bej siloyu menya, a ne obmanom. Skazhi, chto ty otnyne ne moya, Ne otvodi pri vstreche vzor svoj milyj. Zachem hitrit', kogda razgromlen ya I vzyat' menya ty mozhesh' prosto siloj? No, mozhet, znaya, skol' tvoj strashen vzor, Ego otvodish' ty, menya zhaleya, CHtob nad drugim svershilsya prigovor, Kotoryj samoj strashnoj pytki zlee? Net, poshchadi ne tak! No sred' skorbej, Iz zhalosti vzglyanuv, menya dobej. Perevod S. Stepanova 140 Be wise as thou art cruel, do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain, Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach thee wit, better it were, Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so - As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, No news but health from their physicians know. For if I should despair, I should grow mad, And in my madness might speak ill of thee; Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be, That I may not be so, nor thou belied, Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide. Bud' tak zhe mudra, kak ty zhestoka; ne ugnetaj moego besslovesnogo terpeniya slishkom bol'shim prezreniem, chtoby pechal' ne snabdila menya slovami, a slova ne vyrazili, kakova moya bol', nuzhdayushchayasya v zhalosti. Esli by ya mog nauchit' tebya blagorazumiyu, bylo by luchshe, _esli by ty_ - pust' ne lyubila, no, lyubov' moya, hotya by govorila, chto lyubish'; tak bryuzglivye bol'nye, kogda ih smert' blizka, ne priznayut nikakih novostej ot vrachej, krome _obeshchanij_ zdorov'ya. Ved' esli ya otchayus', ya mogu sojti s uma i v svoem bezumii mogu durno govorit' o tebe, a v nashe vremya izvrashchennyj mir stal takim durnym, chto sumasshedshim klevetnikam veryat sumasshedshie ushi. CHtoby so mnoj ne bylo tak - _chtoby_ ty ne byla oklevetana, - nacelivaj svoj vzglyad pryamo _na menya_, hotya by tvoe nadmennoe serdce promahivalos'. K zhestokosti svoej dobav' uma, Moe terpenie ne preziraj, Ne to progovoritsya bol' sama, Kogda slova otyshchet nevznachaj. Ved' esli b ty umnej byla so mnoj, YA veril by, chto ya v lyubvi bogach, Kak verit v uteshenie bol'noj, Kogda ego obmanyvaet vrach. Otchayan'e s uma menya svedet, I ot menya hulu uslyshish' ty, A etot mir, gde vse naoborot, Legko poverit slovu klevety. Ty put' velikodushnyj izberi I, celyas' mimo, na menya smotri. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Bud' mudroj tak, moj drug, kak ty zhestoka, Klejmit' menya prezren'em ne speshi, Ne to pechal' pozvolit ran'she sroka Mne vyrazit' slovami bol' dushi. Ah, esli b nauchit'sya ty sumela, Hot' ne lyubya, mne o lyubvi sheptat', - Tverdyat tak umirayushchemu smelo, CHto skoro smozhet on zdorovym stat'. Ved' ya mogu sojti s uma ot muki I miluyu moyu oklevetat', Sejchas bezumnyj svet ot vechnoj skuki Gotov lyubuyu lozh' vosprinimat'. Ot sluhov zlyh i spleten otvernis' I, ne lyubya, vlyublennoj pritvoris'. Perevod A. Kazakovoj 141 In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note, But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleased to dote. Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone; But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be. Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain. Poistine ya ne lyublyu tebya glazami, tak kak oni podmechayut v tebe tysyachu iz®yanov, no moe sedle lyubit to, chto oni prezirayut, _i_, vopreki vidimomu, schastlivo obozhat' tebya. Moi ushi takzhe ne v vostorge ot zvuka tvoego _golosa_ [yazyka], a moe nezhnoe osyazanie ne sklonno k _tvoim_ nizkim prikosnoveniyam, i ni vkus, ni obonyanie ne zhelayut byt' priglashennymi ni k kakomu chuvstvennomu pirshestvu s toboj naedine. No ni pyat' moih umstvennyh sposobnostej {*}, ni pyat' moih chuvstv ne mogut ubedit' ne sluzhit' tebe odno glupoe serdce, kotoroe ostavlyaet _menya_, ne vladeyushchee soboj podobie muzhchiny, rabom i zhalkim slugoj tvoego nadmennogo serdca. V svoej _lyubovnoj_ chume ya nahozhu tol'ko to preimushchestvo, chto ta, kotoraya zastavlyaet menya greshit', naznachaet mne nakazanie. {* Po analogii s pyat'yu chuvstvami inogda razlichali pyat' proyavlenij uma: obychnyj um, voobrazhenie, fantaziyu, sposobnost' ocenivat', pamyat'.} Glaza moi ne lyubyat oblik tvoj I tysyachu iz®yanov vidyat v nem, No serdce s nimi sporit ne vpervoj I v etom spore stavit na svoem. Ni rech' tvoya, kotoroj sluh ne rad, Ni nezhnye kasan'ya v tishine, Ni ves' tvoj tomnyj vid, ni aromat Ne tyanut byt' s toboj naedine. No vse pyat' chuvstv, i dazhe pyat' umov Ne mogut serdce odolet' odno. Ne slushaya muzhskih surovyh slov, Ono k tebe, kak rab, obrashcheno. Tebya mne, kak chumu, prinyat' pozvol': Ty v greh vvela i podarila bol'. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo V moih glazah lyubvi ne vspyhnet svet, - Tvoi poroki yasno vidit zren'e, A serdce lyubit - v nem prezren'ya net, Ono v lyubvi, v prekrasnom osleplen'i. I sluh, i osyazanie moi, I vkus, i obonyanie vpolne Otvergli priglasheniya tvoi Na strastnyj pir s toboj naedine. Ni razumu, ni chuvstvam ne dano, Ni vpyaterom, ni v razgovore chastnom, Uverit' serdce bednoe odno, CHto v rabstve propadet ono neschastnym. S toboyu u menya odin uspeh Ty bol' moya i moj tyazhelyj greh. Perevod A. Kuznecova 142 Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving. O but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving, Or if it do, not from those lips of thine, That have profaned their scarlet ornaments, And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents. Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied. Lyubov' - moj greh, a tvoya dragocennaya dobrodetel' - otvrashchenie, otvrashchenie k moemu grehu, osnovannomu na grehovnoj lyubvi. No sravni s moim svoe sobstvennoe sostoyanie, i ty obnaruzhish', chto ono ne zasluzhivaet upreka, ili esli zasluzhivaet, to ne iz etih tvoih gub, kotorye oskvernili _svoj_ alyj ornament i zapechatyvali fal'shivye uzy lyubvi tak zhe chasto, kak moi, lishaya chuzhie posteli ih zakonnyh arendnyh dohodov {*}. Da budet zakonnym, chto ya lyublyu tebya, kak ty lyubish' teh, kogo tvoi glaza obhazhivayut, kak moi domogayutsya tebya; ukoreni zhalost' v svoem serdce, i kogda ona vyrastet, tvoya zhalost', vozmozhno, zasluzhit togo, chtoby ee pozhalet'. Esli ty stremish'sya imet' to, chto _sama_ ne vykazyvaesh', iz-za tvoego sobstvennogo primera tebe mozhet byt' _v etom_ otkazano. {* T.e. zakonnoj supruzheskoj lyubvi.} Lyubov' - moj greh, tebe pretit ona, V tvoih glazah grehovna i uboga. No ty sama ne menee greshna, - I stoit li menya sudit' tak strogo? I ne tvoim ustam menya sudit', Podlozhnye skreplyavshim dokumenty Lyubvi pechat'yu aloj, chtob lishit' CHuzhie lozha ih zakonnoj renty. Pust' ya lyublyu tebya, a ty - togo, Kto dlya tebya, kak ty - mne, est' otrada. Podaj mne zhalost' serdca svoego - I zhalost' budet zhalosti nagrada. A esli zhalost' v serdce ne najdesh', Ty ne poluchish' to, chto ne daesh'. Perevod S. Stepanova Lyubov' - moj greh. Svyataya prostota, Ty nenavidish' etot greh otkryto. Pust' greshen ya - i ty uzhe ne ta, A eto oznachaet, chto my kvity. Uzh poricat', tak ne tvoim ustam, Kotorye mne ne odnazhdy lgali: Lyubov' my oba vorovali tam, Gde lozhe nenadezhno ohranyali. Lyublyu tebya ya tak, kak lyubish' vseh, Kogo svoim ty vzglyadom odarila: Moya lyubov' k tebe takoj zhe greh - O, esli b sostradan'e ty vzrastila. Gluha tvoya dusha k chuzhoj bede, I ty ne syshchesh' zhalosti nigde. Perevod I. Fradkina 143 Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away, Sets down her babe and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent To follow that which flies before her face, Not prizing her poor infant's discontent: So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind; But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will, If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. Smotri: kak zabotlivaya hozyajka bezhit, chtoby pojmat' odno otbivsheesya pernatoe sozdanie, - otstavlyaet ditya i brosaetsya so vseh nog vdogonku za tem, chto ona hochet uderzhat', togda kak ee broshenyj rebenok, v pogone za nej, staraetsya pojmat' ee, a ona pogloshchena presledovaniem togo, chto nesetsya u nee pered licom, ne obrashchaya vnimaniya na nedovol'stvo bednogo mladenca, - tak ty bezhish' za tem, kto ubegaet ot tebya, togda kak ya, tvoe ditya, gonyus' za toboj daleko pozadi; no esli ty pojmaesh' _predmet svoih stremlenij_ [svoyu nadezhdu], obernis' ko mne i ispolni rol' materi - poceluj menya, prilaskaj. Itak, ya budu molit'sya, chtoby ty mogla poluchit' svoego Uilla [svoe zhelanie] {*}, esli _potom_ ty obernesh'sya i uteshish' moj gromkij plach. {* V originale - igra na imeni Will i slove "will" (volya, zhelanie) sm. primechanie k sonetu 135.} Smotri! Stremyas' otchayanno pojmat' Odnu iz kur, chto ubegaet proch', Na zemlyu tut zhe opuskaet mat' I ostavlyaet syna ili doch'. Poka krichit neschastnoe ditya, Ee zaboty tshchetno ozhidaya, Ona bezhit vpered, pochti letya, Pro svoego rebenka zabyvaya. Vot tak i ty ischezla, ubezhav. YA nachal, kak ditya, tebya iskat'. No ty vernis', mechtu svoyu dognav, CHtob rol' dobrejshej materi sygrat'. Svoe zhelan'e, svoego Uilla Lovi, lish' pro menya by ne zabyla. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Smotri, kak za pernatym beglecom Hozyajka bespokojnaya bezhit, V to vremya kak s zaplakannym licom Malysh ee, ostavlennyj, lezhit, I ruchki tyanet k nej, i mat' zovet, Bednyazhka. V nebrezhenii ona K ego mol'bam; ee beglec vlechet, I im odnim ona pogloshchena. Vot tak i ty menya, svoe ditya, Ostavila v pogone za mechtoj. No vozvratis', nadezhdu obretya, I, tochno mat' rodnaya, uspokoj. Molyu: ZHelanie imeya, vse zh Ko mne vernis', - moj plach ty tem ujmesh'. Perevod S. SHestakova 144 Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair; The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride. And whether that my angel be turned fiend Suspect I may, but not directly tell, But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell. Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out. U menya est' dve lyubvi, _dayushchie mne_ uteshenie i otchayanie, kotorye, kak dva duha, postoyanno vliyayut na menya: luchshij iz _etih dvuh_ angelov - eto muzhchina, po-nastoyashchemu prekrasnyj [belokuryj], hudshij iz duhov - zhenshchina cveta zla. CHtoby bystro svesti menya v ad, moya zlaya zhenshchina {*} soblaznom uvodit moego luchshego angela ot menya i zhelala by sovratit' moego svyatogo, chtoby on stal d'yavolom, iskushaya ego chistotu svoim nechestivym bleskom. I prevratilsya li moj angel v zlogo duha, ya mogu podozrevat', no ne mogu skazat' navernoe, no, tak kak oni oba _udaleny_ ot menya i druzhny mezhdu soboj, ya dogadyvayus', chto [odin] angel nahoditsya v adu [drugogo]. No etogo ya nikogda ne uznayu, a budu zhit' v somneniyah, poka moj zloj angel ognem ne progonit moego dobrogo. {* V originale - stilisticheskaya figura: "female evil", bukval'no: "zhenskoe zlo".} Dve strasti nado mnoj, kak duhi, vlastny V pokoe i otchayan'e moem: Moj svetlyj angel, yunosha prekrasnyj, I zhenshchina, okrashennaya zlom, CHto v ad menya nizvergnut' pomyshlyaet, I angela uvodit ot menya, I v besa heruvima prevrashchaet, Porokom chistotu ego manya. Podozrevayu eto prevrashchen'e, Hotya ne govoryu napryamotu. Oni vdvoem, ot nih ya v otdalen'e, I strashno mne, chto angel moj v adu. A mne v somnen'yah zhit', pokuda on Ne budet zhenskim demonom sozhzhen. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Dve strasti - beznadezhnost' i blazhenstvo - Vsegda so mnoj po obe storony: Duh dobryj - muzh, krasa i sovershenstvo, A zlobnyj demon v obraze zheny. CHtob skorb'yu nizvesti menya do ada, Stremitsya ved'ma angela prel'stit' I, spes'yu zamarat' nevinnost' rada, Svyatogo hochet v besa prevratit'. Boyus', chto hudshee uzhe svershilos', I ponimayu, na svoyu bedu: Moj drug s moej podrugoj - podruzhilis', I on, naverno, u nee v adu. Pojmu, chto mne predchuvstvie ne lzhet, Kogda zloj angel - dobrogo sozhzhet. Perevod D. SHCHedrovickogo 145 Those lips that Love's own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said 'I nate' To me that languish'd for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet: 'I hate' she altered with an end, That follow'd it as gentle day Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away; 'I hate' from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying 'not you'. Guby, kotorye sozdala ruka samoj Lyubvi, vydohnuli zvuk, skazavshij: "Nenavizhu" - mne, toskovavshemu po nej; no kogda ona uvidela moe gorestnoe sostoyanie, srazu v ee serdce voshlo miloserdie, branya yazyk, kotoryj vsegda _byl_ dobr _i_ privyk proiznosit' myagkie prigovory, i nauchila ego tak obratit'sya _ko mne_ po-novomu: _slovo_ "nenavizhu" ona izmenila s pomoshch'yu okonchaniya, posledovavshego kak laskovyj den' sleduet za noch'yu, kotoraya, kak zloj duh, s nebes unositsya v ad. "Nenavizhu" ona ot nenavisti otdelila [otbrosila] i spasla moyu zhizn', skazav: "Ne tebya". "YA nenavizhu" - slovo vdrug Vozniklo na ee ustah, Vse mrachnym sdelalos' vokrug, Ona uvidela moj strah, Raskayan'e prishlo totchas; Zazhat yazyk, chto do sih por SHeptal slova lyubvi ne raz, A ne surovyj prigovor, "YA nenavizhu" - gnev utih, Vernulsya svetlyj den' nazad, Zabrav vseh demonov svoih, Noch' s neba provalilas' v ad, "YA nenavizhu, - no, lyubya, Dogovorila: - Ne tebya". Perevod A. Kuznecova Iz ust, lyubov'yu sotvorennyh, Razdalsya shepot: "Ne lyublyu", I ya slabel v stradan'yah tomnyh; No, vidya vsyu pechal' moyu, Voshlo k nej v dushu miloserd'e I prikazalo yazyku Nemedlya proyavit' userd'e, CHtob razognat' moyu tosku. Slova, chto rech' ee venchali, Zabrali "Ne lyublyu" nazad, Kak nezhnyj den' v svoem nachale, CHto noch' s nebes svergaet v ad. "YA ne lyublyu, - skazala snova, Dobaviv: - Nikogo drugogo". Perevod V. Nikolaeva 146 Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, [ ] {*} these rebel pow'rs that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more: So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. Bednaya dusha, centr moej greshnoj zemli, [ ] myatezhnye sily, kotorye tebya oblachayut; pochemu ty chahnesh' vnutri i terpish' lisheniya, raskrashivaya vneshnie steny i platya dorogo, chtoby oni stali naryadnymi? Pochemu takuyu vysokuyu cenu, imeya takoj kratkij srok arendy, ty platish' za svoj prihodyashchij v upadok osobnyak? CHtoby chervi, nasledniki etih izlishestv, doeli tvoi zatraty? V etom konec tvoego tela? Togda, dusha, zhivi za schet ubytka svoego slugi, i pust' ono chahnet, uvelichivaya tvoe izobilie; kupi bozhestvennye sroki, prodavaya chasy suety; bud' nasyshchena vnutri, _a_ vneshne bol'she ne bud' bogatoj; tak, kormis' za schet Smerti, kotoraya kormitsya lyud'mi, a kogda Smert' umret, bol'she ne budut umirat'. {* V original'nom izdanii Torpa vtoraya stroka nachinalas' s povtoreniya treh poslednih slov pervoj stroki: "My sinful earth these...", chto narushaet razmer i ne poddaetsya osmyslennoj interpretacii vvidu ostal'noj chasti stroki. Izdateli i kommentatory, schitaya eto oshibkoj nabora, predlagali samye raznye varianty nachala vtoroj stroki, ni odin iz kotoryh ne yavlyaetsya bolee obosnovannym, chem drugie.} Dusha, yadro moej grehovnoj ploti, Uzhel' poryvy sil tvoih slepy, CHto, golodaya, chahnesh' ty v zabote O dragocennom glyance skorlupy? Stol' kratkij srok za schet takih usilij Zachem ty tratish' na neprochnyj dom, CHtob chervi kak nasledniki vkusili Tvoih sokrovishch, voploshchennyh v nem? ZHivi, dusha moya! Pust' chahnet telo, Utratoyu tebya obogativ I, voplotyas' do vysshego predela, Ostatkom zhizni sdelku oplativ, - Pitayas' smert'yu, kak ona lyud'mi, Iz ruk ee bessmertie primi. Perevod I. Asterman Dusha, o greshnoj ploti serdcevina, Ty vnov' myatezhnym silam potakaesh'. Vnutri tebya i golod, i kruchina, Snaruzhi - yarkoj rospis'yu blistaesh'. Zachem ty tratish' sredstva dorogie Na osobnyak, chto sdan tebe vnaem? CHtob byli vse izlishestva smeshnye Obglodany naslednikom-chervem? Kak telu pereplachivaesh' ty! Pust' tvoj sluga svoi umen'shit traty. Na vechnost' obmenyaj hlam suety; Vnutri bud' sytoj, vneshne - nebogatoj. Ty smert'yu nasladis', ch'ya pishcha - lyudi, I smert' umret, i umershih ne budet. Perevod V. Nikolaeva 147 My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th'uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic mad with evermore unrest, My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly expressed: For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. Moya lyubov' - kak lihoradka, kotoraya vse vremya zhazhdet togo, chto eshche bol'she vskarmlivaet bolezn', pitayas' tem, chto sohranyaet nedug, chtoby udovletvorit' nepostoyannyj, boleznennyj appetit. Moj rassudok - vrach, lechivshij menya ot lyubvi, razgnevannyj tem, chto ya ne vypolnyal ego receptov, - pokinul menya, i teper' ya v otchayan'e ubezhdayus' _na opyte_, chto strast', kotoruyu otvergaet medicina, - eto smert'. Mne uzhe ne izlechit'sya teper', kogda rassudok ot menya otkazalsya; ya v lihoradochnom bezumii ot vechnogo smyateniya, moi mysli i rech' - kak u bezumca, oni daleki ot istiny i govoryatsya bez tolku. Tak, ya klyalsya, chto ty belokura [prekrasna, dobra], i dumal, chto ty svetla, a ty cherna, kak ad, temna, kak noch'. YA bolen vospaleniem lyubvi I sam hvatayus' za malejshij povod Razzhech' eshche sil'nee zhar v krovi, CHtob utolit' bolezni lyutyj golod. Moj razum, moj celitel', vdrug propal, Ponyav tshchetu sovetov i staranij, I ya kak oderzhimyj vnov' pripal K svoej nezakryvayushchejsya rane. Naprasno vse. Vracha uzh ne vernesh', Pomeshannyj gulyaet na svobode, Tverdya sebe zavedomuyu lozh', Protivnuyu rassudku i prirode: CHto ty svetla, kak den', i mne verna, A ty, kak noch', temna, kak ad, cherna. Perevod O. Dudoladovoj Moya lyubov' - tot zatyazhnoj nedug, Kotoryj rad lechenie prodlit'. Otravy prezhnej ishchet on vokrug, ZHelaya smutnyj golod utolit'. Moj razum, vrach moj, nedovolen tem, CHto strazhdushchij protivitsya emu, Menya ostavil, v sushchnosti, ni s chem: Strast' - eto smert', lekarstva ni k chemu. I vot, neizlechim, neispravim, YA mesta ne mogu sebe najti, Pod stat' lishennym razuma bol'nym, Privykshim okolesicu nesti. Ved' klyalsya ya, chto solnce ty toch'-v-toch', A ty cherna, kak ad, temna, kak noch'. Perevod Ign. Ivanovskogo Lyubov' - kak lihoradka; zhdet, stradaya, Togo, chto zloj nedug ee prodlit, I ko vsemu, chto bol' oberegaet, Pitaet neponyatnyj appetit. Moj razum, kto lyubvi sluzhil vrachom, Serdyas', chto ya otverg ego lechen'e, Menya ostavil. YA zh, otchayas' v nem, Uznal, chto strast' smertel'na - net spasen'ya. YA bez vracha, rassudku ne vernut'sya, I mne teper' naveki net pokoya. Moi slova i mysli - bred bezumca, I vmesto pravdy ya tverzhu inoe: CHto net tebya prekrasnej i svetlej, Hot' nochi ty i ada ty chernej. Perevod V. Nikolaeva Lyubov' - goryachka, zhar ne utihaet, Naoborot, stanovitsya sil'nej: Ee tuda vlechet, gde polyhaet Ogon' vsepozhirayushchih strastej. Ostavil razum-vrach menya v neschast'e - Razgnevan: ya sovetom prenebreg; Smert' nenasytna, i smertel'ny strasti, YA zhdu, kogda pridet poslednij srok. ZHivu na grani umopomrachen'ya I, obezumev, povtoryayu lozh', Lyuboe bespolezno mne lechen'e, -