Стихотворение Александра Александровича Блока «Фабрика» на русском языке и в двух переводах на английский язык.
Фабрика
В соседнем доме окна жолты.
По вечерам — по вечерам
Скрипят задумчивые болты,
Подходят люди к воротам.
И глухо заперты ворота,
А на стене — а на стене
Недвижный кто-то, черный кто-то
Людей считает в тишине.
Я слышу всё с моей вершины:
Он медным голосом зовет
Согнуть измученные спины
Внизу собравшийся народ.
Они войдут и разбредутся,
Навалят на спины кули.
И в желтых окнах засмеются,
Что этих нищих провели.
24 ноября 1903
Александр Блок (1880-1921)
The Factory
The house next door has yellow windows.
Every night—every night
The wistful bolts begin to squeak,
Men walk slowly to the gate.
The heavy gates are double-locked,
And on the wall—on the wall
Someone silent, someone black
Sits motionless and counts them all.
His voice of brass calls to the men
Assembled down below
To bend their tortured backs again
To bend them low.
Inside they will disperse as ordered,
Each loaded with a heavy bag.
Behind the yellow windows laughter,
Because those beggars have been had.
24 November I903
Alexander Blok
Translated by Yakov Hornstein
The Factory
The house next door has yellow windows.
In the evening, in the evening
Its pensive bolts screech in their hinges,
And people to its gates come streaming.
The gates are shut to hold them back,
And on the wall, and on the wall,
Someone unmoving, someone black
Counts people in the silent pall.
From high above, I hear each sound—
He calls out in a brassy tone
For all those gathered in the crowd
To bend their crippled backs again.
They will come in, fan out, and then
Heave fardels on their backs once more,
And in the yellow windows, men
Will laugh: what fools these beggars are.
24 November I903
Alexander Blok
Translated by Max Thompson
