• Язык:
    Английский (English)
Источник:

Words

Слово

In the old days, when God cast down
His gaze upon the just created earth,
Words stopped the sun,
Words tore down whole towns.

The terror-striken stars
huddled round the moon
When words, like pink flaming tongues
Floated down through air.

The lower levels of beings,
Like domestic cows yoked
Were given numbers, since numbers
Suggest so many things.

The gray old patriach who'd brought
All of good and evil under hand,
Was careful not to make a sound,
So drew a number in the sand.

Thus we forget that only words
Stay brilliant in the light
Of everyday adversity. In Saint John
We find words are God himself.

We have limited what they might have meant
By the shallow shell of our lives,
And like bees in a dried-out hive,
left our rotten smelling words behind.

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Евгений Бонвер
    The Word
  • Александр Шаумян
    The Word
  • Дон Магер
    The Word
  • Бартон Раффел, Алла Бураго
    The Word
  • Алексей Романовский
    The Name
  • Венгерский
    Иштван Бака
    Az ige
  • Испанский
    Хосе Матео, Ксения Дьяконова
    La palabra
  • Хорхе Бустаманте Гарсия
    La palabra
  • Итальянский
    Амедео Анелли
    La parola
  • Китайский
    Хан Ли
    词语
  • Литовский
    Гинтарас Патацкас
    Žodis
  • Немецкий
    Натка-Хатифнатка
    Das Wort
  • Эрик Бёрнер
    Das wort
  • Ирмгард Вилле
    Das Wort
  • Польский
    Лежек Энгелькинг
    Słowo
  • Тадеуш Рубникович
    Słowo
  • Словацкий
    Ян Квапил
    Slovo
  • Украинский
    Наталия Горишная
    Слово
  • Максим Стриха
    Слово
  • Белорусский
    Василий Зуёнок
    Слова

А вот еще:

Cain’s Descendants

He didn’t deceive us, that sad, somber spirit / Who wears the morning star as pseudonym / And said: "Shun not the highest gain, nor fear it: / Taste of the fruit and you will equal Him." / / Instantly, for the youth, all roads lay open, / And for old men, all mysteries to know, / ...

The Worker

He’s standing there, beside the glowing furnace, / A small man, probably older than you’d think. / His gaze is peaceful, seems almost submissive / From the way his reddened eyelids blink. / / All his workmates have knocked off - they’re sleeping / But he’s still ...

The Lost Tram

I was walking an obscure route / And abruptly I heard caws of crows, / A distant thunder and a tinkling lute: / A rushing tram was really close. / / How I leapt to its step / Is still a mystery to me. / It left a fiery track beyond itself / Which even in the daylight I could see. ...