А.С. Пушкин «К морю» на английском языке
К морю
Прощай, свободная стихия!
В последний раз передо мной
Ты катишь волны голубые
И блещешь гордою красой.
Как друга ропот заунывный,
Как зов его в прощальный час,
Твой грустный шум, твой шум призывный
Услышал я в последний раз.
Моей души предел желанный!
Как часто по брегам твоим
Бродил я тихий и туманный,
Заветным умыслом томим!
Как я любил твои отзывы,
Глухие звуки, бездны глас
И тишину в вечерний час,
И своенравные порывы!
Смиренный парус рыбарей,
Твоею прихотью хранимый,
Скользит отважно средь зыбей:
Но ты взыграл, неодолимый,
И стая тонет кораблей.
Не удалось навек оставить
Мне скучный, неподвижный брег,
Тебя восторгами поздравить
И по хребтам твоим направить
Мой поэтической побег!
Ты ждал, ты звал… я был окован;
Вотще рвалась душа моя:
Могучей страстью очарован,
У берегов остался я…
О чём жалеть? Куда бы ныне
Я путь беспечный устремил?
Один предмет в твоей пустыне
Мою бы душу поразил.
Одна скала, гробница славы…
Там погружались в хладный сон
Воспоминанья величавы:
Там угасал Наполеон.
Там он почил среди мучений.
И вслед за ним, как бури шум,
Другой от нас умчался гений,
Другой властитель наших дум.
Исчез, оплаканный свободой,
Оставя миру свой венец.
Шуми, взволнуйся непогодой:
Он был, о море, твой певец.
Твой образ был на нём означен,
Он духом создан был твоим:
Как ты, могущ, глубок и мрачен,
Как ты, ничем неукротим.
Мир опустел… Теперь куда же
Меня б ты вынес, океан?
Судьба людей повсюду та же:
Где капля блага, там на страже
Уж просвещенье иль тиран.
Прощай же, море! Не забуду
Твоей торжественной красы
И долго, долго слышать буду
Твой гул в вечерние часы.
В леса, в пустыни молчаливы
Перенесу, тобою полн,
Твои скалы, твои заливы,
И блеск, и тень, и говор волн.
1824
А.С. Пушкин (1799-1837)
To The Sea
Farewell to you, unharnessed Ocean!
No longer will you roll at me
Your azure swells in endless motion
Or gleam in tranquil majesty.
A comrade’s broken words on leaving,
His hail of parting at the door:
Your chant of luring, chant of grieving
Will murmur in my ears no more.
Oh, homeland of my spirit’s choosing!
How often on your banks at large
I wandered mute and dimly musing,
Fraught with a sacred, troubling charge!
How I would love your deep resounding,
The primal chasm’s muffled voice,
How in your vesper calm rejoice,
And in your sudden, reckless bounding!
The fisher’s lowly canvas slips,
By your capricious favor sheltered,
Undaunted down your breakers’ lips:
Yet by your titan romps have weltered
And foundered droves of masted ships.
Alas, Fate thwarted me from weighing
My anchor off the cloddish shore,
Exultantly your realm surveying,
And by your drifting ridges laying
My poet’s course forevermore.
You waited, called… I was in irons,
And vainly did my soul rebel,
Becalmed in those uncouth environs
By passion’s overpowering spell.
Yet why this sorrow? Toward what fastness
Would now my carefree sails be spread?
To one lone goal in all your vastness
My spirit might have gladly sped.
One lonely cliff, the tomb of glory…
There chilling slumber fell upon
The ghost of mankind’s proudest story:
There breathed his last Napoleon.
There rest for suffering he bartered;
And, gale-borne in his wake, there streams
Another kingly spirit martyred,
Another regent of our dreams.
He passed, and left to Freedom mourning,
His laurels to Eternity.
Arise, roar out in stormy warning:
He was your own true bard, oh Sea!
His soul was by your spirit haunted,
In your own image was he framed:
Like you immense, profound, undaunted,
Like you nocturnal untamed.
Bereft the world… where by your power,
Oh Sea would you now carry me?
Life offers everywhere one dower:
On any glint of bliss there glower
Enlightenment or tyranny.
Farewell then, Sea! Henceforth in wonder
Your regal grace will I rever;
Long will your muffled twilit thunder
Reverberate within my ear.
To woods and silent wildernesses
Will I translate your potent spells,
Your cliffs, your coves, your shining tresses,
Your shadows and your murmurous swells.
Alexander Pushkin
Translation by Babette Deutsch
To The Sea
Unfettered element! Farewell
Before me now one final time
You roll again that skyblue swell,
And sparkle with a pride sublime.
Like an old friend’s regretful sigh,
Like his last faint goodbye through tears,
Your summoning sound, your sounding cry,
This one last time now fills my ears.
Oh yes, my heart’s desired reach!
How often I in twilight went
Quiet and dark along your beach,
Wracked by a sacred deep intent
Dear were the answers you would send,
Dim primal sounds, the chasm’s call
The silences of eveningfall
And those impulsive flights of wind.
The humble sail of fishers’ slips,
With the protection of your mood,
Bravely amid your watertips,
But you, a Titan unsubdued,
Roll rough and drown a herd of ships.
‘Twas not my luck to leave the night
Fallen on this dry stirless shore,
To greet you, raptured into light,
And make my grand poetic flight
Across your crests forevermore
You called… I was enthralled aground.
Vainly my heart in shackles strained.
By spells of potent passion bound
Beside the beaches I remained.
What’s to regret? Toward what far shoal
Could I my madcap voyage chart?
In all your open wilds, one goal
Could still have power to strike my heart,
One cliff…that sepulcher of glory
There a chill slumber in the west
Whelmed memories of a mighty story…
There was Napoleon felled to rest.
There rested he in tribulations.
And, after him as thunder, rolls
Yet one more genius of the nations,
One more commander of our souls
Leaving the world his wreath forever
He vanished, grieved by liberty.
Seethe! Sound! Blow wild with angry weather.
He was your one true bard, O Sea.
In him your spirit wrought its mark,
In your own image was he framed
Like you was potent, deep and dark.
Like you, an element untamed.
The world’s a void. Now in that cold
Whither, O Sea, would you with me?
In every land one fate takes hold:
Each drop of virtue is patrolled
By technocrats…or tyranny
So, Sea, farewell. I will recall
Your august splendor all my years.
Long shall your boom as evenings fall
Sound and resound within my ears.
To woods and hushful wastes, away
Imbued anew with you, I bring
Your gleam and shadow, cliff and bay,
And your dear waves’ blue rumoring.
Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
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