Творчество

Переводы стихов Натальи Лайдинен

TO THE SILVER AGE

                       ...and the crescent of silver was bright
                       Floating high o`er the Silver Age...
                                                            A.Akhmatova


I've been reading too late again...
Gushing wind beats the window pane;
And the crescent's alone in the sky,
Still untouched by human rage;
Of the gloom of the Silver Age
It is singing, its voice so high.
Passing by all the doors and frames
With so many titles and names,
Passing squares of Pushkin's lore
I go to Dostoyevsky's back streets
With their terrible sounds of feet
Of the people who live no more.
It's so gloomy. But what is it?
They have gathered, the poets, and sit
Reading verses aloud all night.
Stars are eyes in the dark that stare...
Time has turned into stanzas there
And fled quietly out of sight.
This was brilliant, that was not;
It's their epoch, and it has got
All the right to assess their breath.
Yet these lines are immortal things.
What a sinner or prophet sings!
Is that mask of the Harlequin, Death?
Is that night? Or the morning that shines?
I've been reading between the lines...
The wind opened the sky to me...
High above our voiceless age,
Unresolved by all human rage,
The silver crescent is floating free.




* * *
I know for sure that we shall meet in April
When into streams the winter ice is spilled,
When with music everything is filled,
And rainbow fonts hold life that laughs and capers.
We'll make a picture with the Sun and paper
And pour the rain, the first rain on the spring.
We'll let its shining, like a crystal, bring
The light to things that we were always shaping.
We'll see the world, so young, a cradle gaping
And you will learn then that the Earth is small.
And I will tell you how I lived and all,
And that I knew that we should meet in April!

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