At moments of so sad an air
When for a yellow shore I wish
A lady's voice bids, "May you fare
Well" as impulsive birch trees swish;
Below the gray sky, first are snows
To lie on fields where flames have lain,
The sunless, faithless flyway goes
For many a snow driven crane...
It's been long since my soul was all in
To range through bygone love and sprees,
Long since it's time I saw this palling
With too much love for ghosts I'm seized.
But after all in mean abodes —
To stop these short is hard enough —
The violins in swapping modes
Wail for the yellow shore, for love.
It's under the low sky where I
Still see the yellow shoreline squish,
Voice dear enough to make me cry,
And those impulsive birch trees swish.
This farewell hour will wind up ne'er,
Of time, there's nothing to be heard...
At moments of so sad an air
Pray do say nothing; mum's the word
Николай
Рубцов
НОЧЬ НА
РОДИНЕ
Высокий дуб. Глубокая вода.
Спокойные кругом ложатся тени.
И тихо так, как будто никогда
Природа здесь не знала потрясений!
И тихо так, как будто никогда
Здесь крыши сел не слыхивали грома!
Не встрепенется ветер у пруда,
И на дворе не зашуршит солома,
И редок сонный коростеля крик...
Вернулся я - былое не вернется!
Ну что же? Пусть хоть это остается,
Продлится пусть хотя бы этот миг,
Когда души не трогает беда,
И так спокойно двигаются тени,
И тихо так, как будто никогда
Уже не будет в жизни потрясений,
И всей душой, которую не жаль
Всю потопить в таинственном и милом,
Овладевает светлая печаль,
Как лунный свет овладевает миром...
The oak tree's tall. The water's running deep.
The restful shadows 'round begin to steal.
And there's such silence up on you to creep
As though the nature here knew no ordeal!
And there's such silence up on you to creep
As though no roof heard any tell of thunder!
No wind along the pond will break its sleep,
No farmyard straw will rustle somewhere under,
Nor often is a drowsy crake's cry sung...
I'm back — the past will not return again!
It's just as well; let this at least remain,
Let this short moment last, at least stay young,
When there's no woe your soul has got to weep,
And it's so restful as the shadows reel,
And there's such silence up on you to creep
As though in life there should be no ordeal,
And your own heart which you will not repent
Of having all drowned in a mystic probe,
Is taken hold of with the bright lament
Like moonlight takes hold of the earthly globe...
Николай
Рубцов
Плыть, плыть, плыть…
В жарком тумане дня
Сонный встряхнем фиорд!
-Эй, капитан! Меня
Первым прими на борт!
Covered with hot day’s wrap
Shake up the sleepy fiord!
- Hey, captain, old chap,
Take me the first aboard!
Sail, sail, sail
Past old tombs and graves,
Past shabby churches’ shades,
Past human conflicts, fates.
All boring thoughts – get lost!
Reasoning – no way!
Night is when stars’re at most!
Sun in the sky means day!
Sail, sail, sail
Past early childhood days,
Past those orphan’s eyes,
Sweet and appealing ties…
If I should die – do not
Serve me a candle light!
Just send my kin a note,
Come to the place I lie.
Folks far away will guess
Where this place is lost.
Each one in Russia has
Right to memorial Cross!
Sail, sail, sail…
Перевод - Ирина Куликова
Николай
Рубцов
* * *
Я умру в крещенские морозы.
Я умру,
когда
трещат березы.
А весною ужас
будет полный:
На погост
речные хлынут волны!
Из моей
затопленной могилы
Гроб всплывет,
забытый и
унылый,
Разобьется с треском,
и в потемки
Уплывут ужасные
обломки.
Сам не знаю,
что это
такое...
Я не верю
вечности покоя!
I will die in Epiphany cold
I will die when birch trees creak and moan.
But in spring it will make blood run cold
River
waves will make the graveyard flow!
From my
flooded grave so rudely opened
Dull
forgotten coffin will be floating,
It will
crack and crash and in the twilight
Awful
remnants will be coming off sight.
What is it
- I hardly ever know
Do not trust eternal peaceful flow!