С миру по нитке. Поэтические переводы

Но если дважды миру суждено

Исчезнуть без следа,

Испивший ненависти горькое вино,

Скажу: наш мир пойдет на дно

Скорее ото льда.

The Aim was Song

Before man to blow to right

The wind once blew itself untaught,

And did its loudest day and night

In any rough place where it caught.

Man came to tell it what was wrong:

It hadn’t found the place to blow;

It blew too hard – the aim was song.

And listen – how it ought to go!

He took a little in his mouth,

And held it long enough for north

To be converted into south,

And then by measure blew it forth.

By measure. It was word and note,

The wind the wind had meant to be —

A little through the lips and throat.

The aim was song – the wind could see.

Главное – песня…

Наш предок песен не слагал,

И только ветер, всласть,

Выл днём и ночью среди скал…

И песнь его лилась!

Но человек сказал: – Не так,

Не там, дружок, не пой!

Владей дыханьем, помни такт…

Займусь-ка я тобой.

Ты рот и губы округли,

Петь с севера изволь,

На юге слушай, как вдали

Звучат до, фа, ми, соль.

Что ж ветер? Шею, горло, грудь

И лёгкие искал…

А песню так легко спугнуть!

Стих ветер среди скал.

«Lovers, forget your love…»

Lovers, forget your love,

And list to the love of these,

She a window flower,

And he a winter breeze.

When the frosty window veil

Was melted down at noon,

And the caged yellow bird

Hung over her in tune,

He marked her through the pane,

He could not help but mark,

And only passed her by,

To come again at dark.

He was a winter wind,

Concerned with ice and snow,

Dead weeds and unmated birds,

And little of love could know.

But he sighed upon the sill,

He gave the sash a shake,

As witness all within

Who lay that night awake.

Perchance he half prevailed

To win her for the flight

From the fire lit looking-glass

And warm stove-window light.

But the flower leaned aside

And thought of naught to say,

And morning found the breeze

A hundred miles away.

«Сердечных дел урок…»

Сердечных дел урок

Вам преподам сейчас.

Про ветер и цветок

Послушайте рассказ…

Весенний день, капель…

Сползла со стёкол шаль,

И громко птичья трель

Неслась из клетки вдаль.

Спал ветер на сосне,

Но пенье будит страсть,

А роза на окне

Зарделась и зажглась.