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Òåìà: Ðóêà ìåðòâåöà (ïåðåâîä)
Âðåìÿ: 14.10.2005 01:08 |
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Äæîðäæ Ìàêäîíàëüä (1824-1905) Ðóêà ìåðòâåöà Êîëäóíüÿ ãóëÿëà ïî êðîìêå ïåñêà, Ãäå âîëíû ðåâóò âðàçíîáîé, Íî ìåëüêíóëà ñðåäü âîëí ìåðòâåöà ðóêà - Äîáðûé çíàê äëÿ âåäüìû ëþáîé! Ê ìåðòâåöó ëåãêî ïîäîøëà îíà, Ñêâîçü ñêàëû ïðîéäÿ íàïðîëåò: Íàä íåâèííîé äåâîé øóòèë òû ñïîëíà, Íî ìîé ñåãîäíÿ ÷åð¸ä! Ñàïôèð íà ïàëüöå ãîðåë îãí¸ì, À â ðóáèíàõ àëåëà ìãëà: Âåðíè ìîè êëÿòâû áûòü âå÷íî âäâî¸ì, È ìîé ïåðñòåíü,- âåäüìà ðåêëà. Îíà âîñêðåñèëà ïëîòü ì¸ðòâûõ ðóê, È êîëüöî ïîòÿíóëà ñëåãêà, Íî ìåðòâîé õâàòêîé, ñæàâ ïàëüöû âäðóã, Ÿ ñõâàòèëà ðóêà. Âåäüìà êëÿëàñü, ÷òî íå ñëàëà ãðîç, È çàêëÿòüÿ ÷èòàëà âñïÿòü: Íî ìåðòâåö áûë ãëóõ, è íå ñëóøàë âñåðü¸ç, À ðóêà ïðîäîëæàëà äåðæàòü. È ñìåðòíûì õëàäîì ïîïîëç ïðèëèâ, Êîãäà ïîäîø¸ë åãî ñðîê; Îí êîëåíè îáíÿë, íåòîðîïëèâ, È íà òàëèþ âåäüìû ë¸ã. Ñ íîâîáðà÷íûìè âíîâü, ñðåäè ïåíèñòûõ ãðèâ, Êîðàáëü ïîïëûë ïî âîëíå, È âåäüìà óâèäåëà èõ ñêâîçü ïðèëèâ, ×òî ñ ãóáàìè âñòàë íàðàâíå. Î, ñåðäöå ìåðòâûõ è ðóêè ìåðòâûõ – Âàøè îáúÿòüÿ êðåïêè! È ëþáîâü – ñêîðëóïêà, íî ëåòèò ãîëóáêà Âñåì ÿñòðåáàì âîïðåêè. George MacDonald (1824-1905) THE DEAD HAND The witch lady walked along the strand, Heard a roaring of the sea, On the edge of a pool saw a dead man's hand, Good thing for a witch lady! Lightly she stepped across the rocks, Came where the dead man lay: Now pretty maid with your merry mocks, Now I shall have my way! On a finger shone a sapphire blue In the heart of six rubies red: Come back to me, my promise true, Come back, my ring, she said. She took the dead hand in the live, And at the ring drew she; The dead hand closed its fingers five, And it held the witch lady. She swore the storm was not her deed, Dark spells she backward spoke; If the dead man heard he took no heed, But held like a cloven oak. Deathly cold, crept up the tide, Sure of her, made no haste; Crept up to her knees, crept up each side, Crept up to her wicked waist. Over the blue sea sailed the bride In her love's own sailing ship, And the witch she saw them across the tide As it rose to her lying lip. Oh, the heart of the dead and the hand of the dead Are strong hasps they to hold! Fled the true dove with the kite's new love, And left the false kite with the old. |
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Òåìà: Re: Ðóêà ìåðòâåöà (ïåðåâîä)
Âðåìÿ: 14.10.2005 14:04 |
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Ñïàñèáî, ó ìåíÿ åùå åñòü èç ýòîãî àâòîðà, íî ïîêà âûëîæèòü íå ìîãó. Ñäåëàþ èç íåãî, íàâåðíîå, åùå âåùåé 15-20 äëÿ íîâîé ïåðåâîä÷åñêîé àíòîëîãèè. | |
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