• Язык:
    Английский (English)
Источник:

Beatrice

Музы, рыдать перестаньте…

Muses, enough, cease your sobbing,
Pour out your grief into singing,
Sing about Dante soul-stirring,
Or play the flute, play with feeling.

Move on, annoying faun deities,
Music is dead in your screaming!
Haven’t you learned only lately
Beatrice exited Eden.

All white and strange Rose is lurking
In quiet chill of the evening...
What’s this? Additional warning?
Or is this plea for forgiving?

There lived a flustered artist
Used to the worldly deceptions –
Sinner, seducer... impious,
Beatrice was the exception.

Poet’s reclusive affection
Turned into luminous currents,
Turned into torrents of passion,
Tugging away at his heartstrings.

Muses, in this splendid sonnet
Render the riddle to setting,
Sing about Dante, be certain,
Gabriel Dante Rossetti.

Другие переводы:

  • Немецкий
    Ирмгард Вилле
    Beatrice

А вот еще:

Comfort

He that has been burried / Hears a glorious chime, / Smells the whitest lilies / In his dream beyond time. / / He that in his grave lies / Sees an endless light / As the wings of Seraphs / Shed their snow-flakes bright. / / You are on your death-bed / And your hands are cold....

The Giraffe

Today, I can see that your glance is especially sad, / And your hands are especially frail and your hair especially a mess. / There, there now... Just listen... far, far away, on Lake Chad / Roams a proud and graceful giraffe... / / An exquisite figure and a leisurely life are his boon / ...

The Giraffe

Today I can see that your features are strikingly sad, / Your arms on your knees are as thin as dandelion stalks. / But listen, in far-away lands that surround lake Chad / A graceful giraffe softly walks. / / A slender and delicate beauty he rightfully owns, / And magical ornaments run ...

Me and You

Yes I know, me and you - we aren't alike, / I have come from far away soils, / And it's not the guitar I like, / It's the sound of violent tonsils. / / Its not for the buildings or roads / Not for the dresses or fashion - / I spell out my poems for dragons, / For the clouds, ...

Giraffe

Today I can see that your look is especially sad / And your arms are especially fragile, as if made of chaff. / Listen, my dear: far away, by the shores of Lake Chad, / Roams the exquisite giraffe. / / It was granted the gift of proportion, voluptuous grace, / And its skin is adorned wi...

Sixth Sense

Fine the wine that loves us, / Good bread baked for our sakes / And the women who torment and tease / Yet please us and in the end let us take them. / / But what do we do with the red / Hue of sunset that lets the sky grow cold / With blue in a still, strange serenity? / What to do ...