Сонет американской поэтессы Эдны Сент-Винсент Миллей «Ты снова одинока? Если так…» на английском и русском языках. * * * If to be left were to be left alone, And lock the door and find one’s self again — Drag forth and dust Penates of one’s own That in a corner all too long have lain; Read Brahms, read Chaucer, set the chessmen out In classic problem, stretch the shrunken mind Back to its stature on the rack of thought — Loss might be said to leave its boon behind. But fruitless conference and the interchange With callow wits of bearded … Читать далее →

* * * The heart once broken is a heart no more, And is absolved from all a heart must be; All that it signed or chartered heretofore Is cancelled now, the bankrupt heart is free; So much of duty as you may require Of shards and dust, this and no more of pain, This and no more of hope, remorse, desire, The heart once broken need support again. How simple ’tis, and what a little sound It makes in breaking, let the world attest: It struggles, and it fails; the world goes round, And the moon follows it. Heart … Читать далее →

* * * Sorrowful dreams remembered after waking Shadow with dolour all the candid day; Even as I read, the silly tears out-breaking Splash on my hands and shut the page away.… Grief at the root, a dark and secret dolour, Harder to bear than wind-and-weather grief, Clutching the rose, draining its cheek of colour, Drying the bud, curling the opened leaf. Deep is the pond—although the edge be shallow, Frank in the sun, revealing fish and stone, Climbing ashore to turtle-head and mallow— Black at the centre beats a heart unknown. Desolate dreams pursue me out of sleep; Weeping … Читать далее →

Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies. Nobody that matters, that is. Distant relatives of course Die, whom one never has seen or has seen for an hour, And they gave one candy in a pink-and-green stripéd bag, or a jack-knife, And went away, and cannot really be said to have lived at all. And cats die. They lie on the floor and lash their tails, And their reticent fur … Читать далее →