Ива - пер. А. Ахматовой
Willow by Anna Akhmatova
And I was brought up in the figured silence,
In freshness of the child's years of century.
And I disliked the voice of any man there,
But voice of wind I tried appreciating.
I liked the burdocks and the nettle lawns,
But mostly - the silver willow growth.
And grateful, then she lived with me
All life, with brances mournful weeping,
And sleeplessness mine was granting with a dream.
And - it is strange! - that I've her outlived.
There's only a stump is seen, and alien voices
Of other willows are heard
Under the heavens chosen by us...
As if the brother passed...
And I keep silence...
-----
см. также
Ирина Гончарова
Anna Akhmatova. Willow
And frail bunch of trees.
A. Pushkin
And I was raised in the ornate deep silence,
In the cool nursery of century, so young.
Yes, I was never pleased by voices of the human tongue,
Yet to the voice of wind I was affianced.
I loved burdocks and nettles, though.
Yet more than anything I loved a silver willow.
It lived with me being thankful through the years
Its weeping branches fanned
My sleepless nights. So strange!-
I outlived it. Just a stump sticks out here,
And other wallows’ foreign voices bang
Under the then ours, under those grey skies.
And I am silent. As if my brother had died.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ива
И дряхлый пук дерев.
Пушкин
А я росла в узорной тишине,
В прохладной детской молодого века.
И не был мил мне голос человека,
А голос ветра был понятен мне.
Я лопухи любила и крапиву,
Но больше всех серебряную иву.
И, благодарная, она жила
Со мной всю жизнь, плакучими ветвями
Бессонницу овеивала снами.
И — странно!— я ее пережила.
Там пень торчит, чужими голосами
Другие ивы что-то говорят
Под нашими, под теми небесами.
И я молчу... Как будто умер брат.
18 января 1940, Ленинград
And I was brought up in the figured silence,
In freshness of the child's years of century.
And I disliked the voice of any man there,
But voice of wind I tried appreciating.
I liked the burdocks and the nettle lawns,
But mostly - the silver willow growth.
And grateful, then she lived with me
All life, with brances mournful weeping,
And sleeplessness mine was granting with a dream.
And - it is strange! - that I've her outlived.
There's only a stump is seen, and alien voices
Of other willows are heard
Under the heavens chosen by us...
As if the brother passed...
And I keep silence...
-----
см. также
Ирина Гончарова
Anna Akhmatova. Willow
And frail bunch of trees.
A. Pushkin
And I was raised in the ornate deep silence,
In the cool nursery of century, so young.
Yes, I was never pleased by voices of the human tongue,
Yet to the voice of wind I was affianced.
I loved burdocks and nettles, though.
Yet more than anything I loved a silver willow.
It lived with me being thankful through the years
Its weeping branches fanned
My sleepless nights. So strange!-
I outlived it. Just a stump sticks out here,
And other wallows’ foreign voices bang
Under the then ours, under those grey skies.
And I am silent. As if my brother had died.
-------------------------------------------------------
Ива
И дряхлый пук дерев.
Пушкин
А я росла в узорной тишине,
В прохладной детской молодого века.
И не был мил мне голос человека,
А голос ветра был понятен мне.
Я лопухи любила и крапиву,
Но больше всех серебряную иву.
И, благодарная, она жила
Со мной всю жизнь, плакучими ветвями
Бессонницу овеивала снами.
И — странно!— я ее пережила.
Там пень торчит, чужими голосами
Другие ивы что-то говорят
Под нашими, под теми небесами.
И я молчу... Как будто умер брат.
18 января 1940, Ленинград
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