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Ralph Waldo Emerson “Brahma”

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Brahma If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame. They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, I am the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, And pine in vain the sacred Seven; … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow «The Slave’s Dream»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

The Slave’s Dream Beside the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair’ Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land. Wide through the landscape of his dreams The lordly Niger flowed; Beneath the palm-trees on the plain Once more a king he strode; And heard the tinkling caravans Descend the mountain-road. He saw once more his dark-eyed queen Among her children stand; They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand! — A tear burst from … Читать далее →

Thomas Stearns Eliot «Whispers of Immortality»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Whispers of Immortality Webster was much possessed by death And saw the skull beneath the skin; And breastless creatures under ground Leaned backward with a lipless grin. Daffodil bulbs instead of balls Stared from the sockets of the eyes! He knew that thought clings round dead limbs Tightening its lusts and luxuries. Donne, I suppose, was such another Who found no substitute for sense, To seize and clutch and penetrate; Expert beyond experience, He knew the anguish of the marrow The ague of the skeleton; No contact possible to flesh Allayed the fever of the bone. . . . . … Читать далее →

Thomas Hardy «To Life»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

To Life O life with the sad seared face, I weary of seeing thee, And thy draggled cloak, and thy hobbling pace, And thy too-forced pleasantry! I know what thou would’st tell Of Death, Time, Destiny — I have known it long, and know, too, well What it all means for me. But canst thou not array Thyself in rare disguise, And feign like truth, for one mad day, That Earth is Paradise? I’ll tune me to the mood, And mumm with thee till eve; And maybe what as interlude I feign, I shall believe! Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) К жизни … Читать далее →

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow «EXELSIOR!»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение американского поэта и переводчика Генри Лонгфелло (1807 – 1882) «Excelsior!» (Excelsior — Вперед и выше! (лат.)) на английском языке и в трёх переводах на русский язык. EXELSIOR! The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior! His brow was sad; his eye beneath Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior! In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral … Читать далее →

Ralph Waldo Emerson “Two Rivers”

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Two Rivers Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, Repeats the music of the rain; But sweeter rivers pulsing flit Through thee, as thou through the Concord Plain. Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: The stream I love unbounded goes Through flood and sea and firmament; Through light, through life, it forward flows. I see the inundation sweet, I hear the spending of the steam Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, Through love and thought, through power and dream. Musketaquit, a goblin strong, Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; They lose their grief who hear his song, And where he … Читать далее →

John Greenleaf Whittier «Barbara Frietchie»

Tania-Soleil Journal Опубликовано автором

Стихотворение американского поэта и публициста Джона Гринлифа Уиттьера (1807-1892) «Барбара Фритчи» на английском и русском языках. Barbara Frietchie Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, Apple and peach tree fruited deep, Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain-wall; Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, … Читать далее →