George Gordon Byron

The Dream - Сон

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Стихотворение на английском языке - The Dream - Сон

(by Lord Byron)

На английском

На русском

Our life is twofold; Sleep hath its own world,

A boundary between the things misnamed

Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,

And a wide realm of wild reality,

And dreams in their development have breath

And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;

They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts

They take a weight from off waking toils,

They do divide our being; they become

A portion of ourselves as of our time,

And look like heralds of eternity;

They pass like spirits of the past -they speak

Like sibyls of the future; they have power -

The tyranny of pleasure and of pain;

They make us what we were not -what they will,

And shake us with the vision that's gone by,

The dread of vanished shadows -Are they so?

Is not the past all shadow? -What are they?

Creations of the mind? -The mind can make

Substances, and people planets of its own

With beings brighter than have been, and give

A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.

I would recall a vision which I dreamed

Perchance in sleep -for in itself a thought,

A slumbering thought, is capable of years,

And curdles a long life into one hour.

Жизнь наша двойственна. Есть міръ особый сна,

На рубежѣ двухъ тайнъ, что мы невѣрно

Зовемъ существованіемъ и смертью.

Есть міръ, принадлежащій сну, есть царство

Безбрежное дѣйствительности дикой;

И сновидѣнья, въ немъ рождаясь, дышутъ,

Скорбятъ, льютъ слезы, радости не чужды.

Они надъ нашей мыслью тяготѣютъ

И наяву; они-жъ по пробужденьи

Дневныхъ заботъ намъ облегчаютъ тяжесть.

Они двоятъ все наше существо,

То близки намъ и нашему мгновенью

То на герольдовъ вѣчности похожи.

Они скользятъ, какъ духи дней былыхъ,

Вѣщаютъ, какъ Сибиллы, о грядущемъ.

Имъ власть дана блаженства и мученій.

Они, своей лишь прихоти послушны,

Насъ дѣлаютъ иными, чѣмъ мы были,

То потрясая образомъ мелькнувшимъ,

То тѣнью насъ исчезнувшей пугая.

Ужели и они лишь только тѣни?

Не все-ль былое тѣнь? Такъ кто-жъ они?

Не дѣти-ли мечты? Мечта лишь въ силахъ

Сама собой дѣйствительность творить

И населять планеты существами

Прекраснѣе когда-либо рожденныхъ,

И жизнь вдыхать въ безплотныя черты,

Отнынѣ долговѣчнѣй всякой плоти.-

Хочу повѣдать объ одномъ видѣньи,

Что созерцалъ, быть можетъ, въ краткомъ снѣ,

Но грезы сна способны къ долгой жизни,

Въ единый часъ вмѣщая много лѣтъ.

I saw two beings in the hues of youth

Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill,

Green and of mild declivity, the last

As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such,

Save that there was no sea to lave its base,

But a most living landscape, and the wave

Of woods and corn-fields, and the abodes of men

Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke

Arising from such rustic roofs: the hill

Was crowned with a peculiar diadem

Of trees, in circular array, so fixed,

Not by the sport of nature, but of man:

These two, a maiden and a youth, were there

Gazing -the one on all that was beneath

Fair as herself -but the boy gazed on her;

And both were young, and one was beautiful:

And both were young -yet not alike in youth.

As the sweet moon on the horizon's verge

The maid was on the eve of womanhood;

The boy had fewer summers, but his heart

Had far outgrown his years, and to his eye

There was but one beloved face on earth,

And that was shining on him; he had looked

Upon it till it could not pass away;

He had no breath, no being, but in hers:

She was his voice; he did not speak to her,

But trembled on her words; she was his sight,

For his eye followed hers, and saw with hers,

Which coloured all his objects; -he had ceased

To live within himself: she was his life

The ocean to the river of his thoughts,

Which terminated all; upon a tone,

A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow,

And his cheek change tempestuously -his heart

Unknowing of its cause of agony.

But she in these fond feelings had no share:

Her sighs were not for him; to her he was

Even as a brother -but no more; 'twas much,

For brotherless she was, save in the name

Her infant friendship had bestowed on him;

Herself the solitary scion left

Of a time-honoured race. -It was a name

Which pleased him, and yet pleased him not -and why?

Time taught him a deep answer -when she loved

Another; even now she loved another,

And on the summit of that hill she stood

Looking afar if yet her lover's steed

Kept pace with her expectancy, and flew.

Я видѣлъ на холмѣ стоявшихъ рядомъ

Два существа во цвѣтѣ юныхъ дней.

То былъ зеленый холмъ въ уступахъ мягкихъ,

Похожій на отрогъ послѣдній гребня,

Хотя не омывался y подножья

Морской волной. Кругомъ сверкала жизнь

Лѣса и нивы съ хлѣбомъ волновались,

Кой-гдѣ средь нихъ дома людей виднѣлись

И дымъ, віясь, вставалъ отъ сельскихъ крышъ.

Былъ холмъ увѣнчанъ круглой діадемой

Деревьевъ, такъ взрощенныхъ не игрой

Природы, a рукою человѣка.

Тѣ двое -- дѣва съ юношей--глядѣли,

Она -- на міръ, простертый передъ нею,

Цвѣтущій, какъ она сама, a онъ --

Лишь на нее. И оба были юны,

Она -- ктому-жъ прекрасна. Оба юны,

Но въ юности различны межъ собой.

Какъ нѣжная луна на краѣ неба, Сіяла дѣва на зарѣ созрѣвшей

Въ ней женственности. Юноша годами

Моложе былъ, но страсть переросла

Въ немъ возрастъ, и глазамъ его казалось

На всей землѣ одно лицо желаннымъ,--

Лицо, теперь сіявшее предъ нимъ.

Ея черты онъ созерцалъ такъ долго,

Что больше не былъ въ силахъ ихъ забыть.

Лишь ей одною жилъ онъ и дышалъ

И словно говорилъ ея устами.

Нѣмѣя передъ ней, онъ трепеталъ

При каждомъ словѣ, ей произносимомъ.

Ея глазами онъ глядѣлъ на міръ,

Окрашенный въ ихъ цвѣтъ. Онъ пересталъ

Жить самъ въ себѣ. Въ ней былъ источникъ жизни

И океанъ, куда неслись потоки

Всѣхъ чувствъ его, чтобъ слиться тамъ навѣкъ.

Ея прикосновенье, звукъ единый,--

И кровь его то приливала къ сердцу, То бурно отливала вновь къ лицу,--

Хоть сердце и не вѣдало причины

Своихъ страданій. Въ этихъ страстныхъ чувствахъ.

Участія не принимала дѣва.Она вздыхала -- только не о немъ

Онъ для нея былъ братомъ и не больше,

Хоть это было многимъ.Славныхъ предковъ

Послѣдній отпрыскъ, выросши безъ братьевъ,

Она въ пріязни дѣтской имя брата

Давала лишь ему. Онъ это имя

Любилъ и ненавидѣлъ. Почему?

На то отвѣтъ глубокій дало время,

Когда она другого полюбила.

И вотъ теперь она другого любитъ

И, стоя на вершинѣ, смотритъ вдаль,

Не мчится-ль конь съ возлюбленнымъ, летитъ-ли

Онъ такъ же пламенно, какъ ждетъ она?

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

There was an ancient mansion, and before

Its walls there was a steed caparisoned:

Within an antique Oratory stood

The Boy of whom I spake; -he was alone,

And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon

He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced

Words which I could not guess of; then he leaned

His bowed head on his hands and shook, as 'twere

With a convulsion -then rose again

And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear

What he had written, but he shed no tears.

And he did calm himself, and fix his brow

Into a kind of quiet: as he paused,

The Lady of his love re-entered there;

She was serene and smiling then, and yet

She knew she was by him beloved; she knew -

For quickly comes such knowledge -that his heart

Was darkened with her shadow, and she saw

That he was wretched, but she saw not all.

He rose, and with a cold and gentle grasp

He took her hand; a moment o'er his face

A tablet of unutterable thoughts

Was traced, and then it faded, as it came;

He dropped the hand he held, and with slow steps

Retired, but not as bidding her adieu,

For they did part with mutual smiles; he passed

From out the massy gate of that old Hall,

And mounting on his steed he went his way;

And ne'er repassed that hoary threshold more.

Мой сонъ исчезъ и замѣнился новымъ.Я видѣлъ старый замокъ.

У крыльца Осѣдланный богато конь стоялъ.

A юноша, кого я видѣлъ раньше,

Въ старинной ждалъ часовнѣ одиноко.

Печальный, блѣдный, онъ шагалъ въ раздумьи,

Вдругъ сѣлъ, схватилъ перо, и начерталъ

Слова, которыхъ разобрать не могъ я,

Поникъ челомъ на руки, весь затрясся,

Какъ-бы въ припадкѣ судорогъ, вскочилъ

И разорвалъ дрожащими руками

Исписанный листокъ,-- но слезъ не пролилъ.

Онъ вскорѣ превозмогъ свое волненье,

И принялъ видъ спокойный. Въ этотъ мигъ

Владычица души его вошла,

Свѣтла, съ улыбкой на устахъ, хоть знала --

Такое знанье возникаетъ быстро,--

Что любитъ онъ ее, что сердце въ немъ

Она своею тѣнью омрачила.

Она видала, что теперь онъ страждетъ,

Но видѣла не все. Онъ всталъ, ей руку

Пожалъ пожатьемъ, легкимъ и холоднымъ.

Одно мгновенье на его лицѣ

Чувствъ несказанныхъ отразилась повѣсть

И вмигъ исчезла, какъ возникла вмигъ.

Онъ руку отпустилъ и не спѣша,

Съ ней будто не прощаясь, удалился.

Съ улыбкой оба тихо разошлись.

Онъ вышелъ изъ воротъ тяжелыхъ замка,

Сѣлъ на коня и въ дальній путь поѣхалъ,

И больше за порогъ старинный этотъ

Не преступилъ обратно никогда.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds

Of fiery climes he made himself a home,

And his Soul drank their sunbeams; he was girt

With strange and dusky aspects; he was not

Himself like what he had been; on the sea

And on the shore he was a wanderer;

There was a mass of many images

Crowded like waves upon me, but he was

A part of all; and in the last he lay

Reposing from the noontide sultriness,

Couched among fallen columns, in the shade

Of ruined walls that had survived the names

Of those who reared them; by his sleeping side

Stood camels grazing, and some goodly steeds

Were fastened near a fountain; and a man,

Glad in a flowing garb, did watch the while,

While many of his tribe slumbered around:

And they were canopied by the blue sky,

So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,

That God alone was to be seen in heaven.

Мой сонъ исчезъ и замѣнился новымъ.

Тотъ юноша сталъ мужемъ. Онъ жилищемъ

Избралъ себѣ пустыни знойныхъ странъ,

Гдѣ духъ свой услаждалъ лучами солнца.

Живя средь зрѣлищъ странныхъ и суровыхъ

Онъ сдѣлался и самъ не тѣмъ, чѣмъ былъ.

Скитальцемъ сталъ онъ суши и морей.

Какъ волны, предо мной чередовались

Картины странъ различныхъ -- и повсюду

Я различалъ его. И наконецъ

Я видѣлъ: отъ полуденнаго зноя

Онъ отдыхалъ среди колоннъ упавшихъ,

Уснулъ въ тѣни развалинъ, пережившихъ

Названья тѣхъ, кто древле ихъ воздвигъ.

Кругомъ паслись верблюды и стояли

У водоема спутанные кони.

Въ одеждахъ развѣвающихся мужъ

На стражѣ бодрствовалъ; межъ тѣмъ какъ рядомъ

Дремали люди племени его.

Лазурь небесъ надъ всѣми простиралась,

Столь чистыхъ, столь безоблачно-прозрачныхъ,

Что въ глубинѣ ихъ видно только Бога.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Lady of his love was wed with One

Who did not love her better: in her home,

A thousand leagues from his, -her native home

She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy,

Daughters and sons of Beauty, -but behold!

Upon her face there was a tint of grief,

The settled shadow of an inward strife,

And an unquiet drooping of the eye,

As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.

What could her grief be? -she had all she loved,

And he who had so loved her was not there

To trouble with bad hopes, or evil wish,

Or ill-repressed affliction, her pure thoughts.

What could her grief be? -she had loved him not,

Nor given him cause to deem himself beloved,

Nor could he be a part of that which preyed

Upon her mind -a spectre of the past.

Мой сонъ исчезъ и замѣнился новымъ.

Царицу думъ его взялъ въ жены нѣкто,

Ее любившій менѣе, чѣмъ онъ. Въ своемъ дому -- за много тысячъ миль --

Въ своемъ дому она живетъ родимомъ,

Окружена цвѣтущею весною Прекрасныхъ дочерей и сыновей.

Но посмотри! Легла печать страданій На ликъ ея и тѣнь борьбы сокрытой.

Глаза ея опущены тревожно, Какъ будто-бы непролитыя слезы

Отяготили вѣжды ихъ. О чемъ Ея печаль? Кто ей любимъ, тотъ съ нею.

A тотъ, кто самъ любилъ ее, далеко,

И не смутитъ ея мечтаній чистыхъ

Надеждой низкой, иль желаньемъ грѣшнымъ,

Иль плохо скрытой горестью. О чемъ-же

Ея печаль? Онъ не былъ ей любимъ,

Она его не обольщала лживой

Надеждой на любовь свою. Всему,

Что угнетаетъ духъ ея, не можетъ

Онъ быть причастнымъ -- блѣдный призракъ дѣтства.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Wanderer was returned. -

I saw him stand

Before an altar -with a gentle bride;

Her face was fair, but was not that which made

The Starlight of his

Boyhood; -as he stood

Even at the altar, o'er his brow there came

The selfsame aspect and the quivering shock

That in the antique

Oratory shook

His bosom in its solitude; and then -

As in that hour -a moment o'er his face

The tablet of unutterable thoughts

Was traced -and then it faded as it came,

And he stood calm and quiet, and he spoke

The fitting vows, but heard not his own words,

And all things reeled around him; he could see

Not that which was, nor that which should have been -

But the old mansion, and the accustomed hall,

And the remembered chambers, and the place,

The day, the hour, the sunshine, and the shade,

All things pertaining to that place and hour,

And her who was his destiny, came back

And thrust themselves between him and the light;

What business had they there at such a time?

Мой сонъ исчезъ и замѣнился новымъ.

Домой вернулся странникъ. И я видѣлъ

Его предъ алтаремъ, съ невѣстой рядомъ.

Ея лицо плѣняло красотой,

Но не было лицомъ, что возсіяло

Надъ юностью его звѣздой лучистой.

И вотъ предъ алтаремъ его черты

Вдругъ вспыхнули тѣмъ страннымъ выраженьемъ,

И грудь его стѣснилась той-же дрожью,

Какъ нѣкогда въ часовнѣ одинокой.

Теперь, какъ и тогда въ тотъ часъ прощальный,

Одно мгновенье на его лицѣ

Чувствъ несказанныхъ повѣсть отразилась

И вмигъ исчезла, какъ возникла вмигъ.

Спокойный онъ стоялъ, произнося

Слова обѣта, словъ своихъ не слыша.

Все вкругъ него кружилось и плыло,

И видѣлъ онъ не то, что видѣть могъ бы,

A старый замокъ, памятныя сѣни,

Знакомые покои. Тѣ мѣста,

Тотъ день и часъ, свѣтъ дня, тѣней узоры,

Все, связанное съ этимъ днемъ и мѣстомъ,

И съ той, кто стала рокомъ для него,--

Всѣ образы минувшаго вернулись

И стали между нимъ и свѣтомъ солнца.

Къ чему? Что нужно имъ въ подобный часъ?

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Lady of his love; -

Oh! she was changed,

As by the sickness of the soul; her mind

Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes,

They had not their own lustre,

but the look

Which is not of the earth; she was become

The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts

Were combinations of disjointed things;

And forms impalpable and unperceived

Of others' sight familiar were to hers.

And this the world calls frenzy; but the wise

Have a far deeper madness, and the glance

Of melancholy is a fearful gift;

What is it but the telescope of truth?

Which strips the distance of its fantasies,

And brings life near in utter nakedness,

Making the cold reality too real!

Мой сонъ исчезъ и замѣнился новымъ.

Владычицу души его -- увы --

Глубоко измѣнилъ недугъ душевный.

Ея разсудокъ навсегда покинулъ

Свою обитель, и ея глаза,

Лишившись блеска жизни, созерцали

Предметы не земные, точно стала

Она царицей призрачнаго царства.

Ея мечты казались сочетаньемъ Вещей несовмѣстимыхъ. Существа,

Ничьимъ глазамъ незримыя отъ вѣка,

Безплотныя, съ ея сдружились взоромъ.

Безумьемъ называютъ это люди,

Но мудрость смотритъ глубже. Для нея

Безумье -- роковой и страшный даръ,

Какъ будто-бы подзорная труба

Для истины. Оно пространства міра

Отъ призрачныхъ видѣній обнажаетъ,

Являя жизнь въ послѣдней наготѣ

И кажется дѣйствительность тогда

Намъ слишкомъ близкой и неодолимой.

A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.

The Wanderer was alone as heretofore,

The beings which surrounded him were gone,

Or were at war with him; he was a mark

For blight and desolation, compassed round

With Hatred and Contention;

Pain was mixed

In all which was served up to him, until,

Like to the Pontic monarch of old days,

He fed on poisons, and they had no power,

But were a kind of nutriment; he lived

Through that which had been death to many men

And made him friends of mountains;

with the stars

And the quick Spirit of the Universe

He held his dialogues: and they did teach

To him the magic of their mysteries;

To him the book of Night was opened wide,

And voices from the deep abyss revealed

A marvel and a secret. -

Be it so.

Исчезъ мой сонъ и замѣнился новымъ.

Скиталецъ сталъ какъ прежде одинокъ.

Домашніе покинули его

Иль враждовали съ нимъ.

Въ душѣ носилъ онъ

Отчаянья и увяданья знакъ

И окруженъ былъ ненавистью общей

И клеветой. Страданья отравляли

Такъ долго все, къ чему онъ ни касался,

Что наконецъ, какъ древній царь Понтійскій,

Онъ въ пищу сталъ употреблять отравы,

Всю силу потерявшія надъ нимъ.

Онъ жилъ лишь тѣмъ, что смертью угрожаетъ.

Вершины горъ ему друзьями были,

Съ звѣздами, съ вольнымъ геніемъ вселенной Онъ велъ бесѣды.

И они учили Его волшебству чаръ своихъ. Широко

Предъ нимъ была раскрыта книга ночи.

Онъ бездны голосамъ внималъ, вѣщавшимъ

О чудесахъ и тайнахъ.-- Такъ да будетъ!--

My dream is past; it had no further change.

It was of a strange order, that the doom

Of these two creatures should be thus traced out

Almost like a reality -the one

To end in madness -both in misery.

Растаялъ сонъ и новымъ не смѣнился.

Такъ предо мной, какъ будто на яву

Въ порядкѣ странномъ развивался жребій

Двухъ любящихъ существъ, и завершился,

Безумьемъ одного, страданьями обоихъ.

П. Вейнбергъ
Прочитано 456 раз

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