Борис Пастернак
(1890-1960)
Зимняя ночь
Мело,
мело по всей земле
Во все пределы.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.
Как
летом роем мошкара
Летит на пламя,
Слетались хлопья со двора
К оконной раме.
Метель
лепила на стекле
Кружки и стрелы.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.
На
озаренный потолок
Ложились тени,
Скрещенья рук, скрещенья ног,
Судьбы скрещенья.
И
падали два башмачка
Со стуком на пол.
И воск слезами с ночника
На платье капал.
И
все терялось в снежной мгле
Седой и белой.
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.
На
свечку дуло из угла,
И жар соблазна
Вздымал, как ангел, два крыла
Крестообразно.
Мело
весь месяц в феврале,
И то и дело
Свеча горела на столе,
Свеча горела.
d
Translator’s
Note
This poem was first composed in
Dec., 1946, as part of the text of the novel Doctor Zhivago, first
published in 1958. Set to music many times and much analyzed, it is one of
those poems that practically any Russian seems familiar with.
d
Literal
Translation
Winter
Night
Snow swept all across the earth
From end of earth to end.
A candle on a table burned,
A candle burned.
As a swarm of midges in summer
Flies into a flame,
Clumps of snow from the
courtyard
Flew up against the window
frame.
The blizzard sculpted on the
glass
Circles and arrows.
The candle burned on the table,
The candle burned.
On the brightly lit ceiling
Shadows coalesced,
Hands interlaced [crossed], legs
interlaced,
Fates interlaced.
And with a clunk fell
Two shoes to the floor.
And wax in tears from the
nightlight
Dripped on the dress.
And everything was lost in snowy
murk,
Gray and white.
The candle burned on the table,
The candle burned.
A draught blew on the candle
from a corner,
And a heat of temptation
Raised up, like an angel, two
wings
In the shape of a cross.
The whole month of February was
swept with snow,
And now and again
The candle burned on the table,
The candle burned.
d
Literary
Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
Winter
Night
O’er all the earth a snowstorm
swirling,
Yearning snowflakes, endless
whirling.
A candle on a table burning,
A candle burned.
As mayflies in a summer swarming
Fly toward a flamelet seeking
warming,
Snowy floccules ascertain
How to paste a pane.
Arrows, circles, frosted ferns
Blizzard-sculpted on cold glass.
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.
On the ceiling brightly lit
Shades and shadows blend and
flit,
Legs and arms sheer
interlacings,
Fates all interlaced.
Two shoes fall, one low, one
hightop,
Clunk and flop, void of finesse.
Nightlight lamp in drips like teardrops
Dribbling wax on dress.
And all was lost in snowmist
blurred,
Gray-white, unconcerned.
The candle on the table burned,
The candle burned.
A draught on candleflame, one waft,
In fever’s fervid firestorm,
Raised up two angel’s wings
aloft,
To stand in trembling cruciform.
February whirled in snow,
While on and on through
yearning,
A candle on the table burned,
The candle went on burning.
d
Читает Сергей Бехтерев:
No comments:
Post a Comment