Говард Лавкрафт - Кошмар По-эта

Злые крылья в небе бьются;
Грифы в разуме скребутся;
Существа из бреда вьются
Чернотой по небесам.
Тени радости летучей,
Бесы новой грусти жгучей
В душу движут хмурой тучей,
Чтоб осесть навечно там.

Жизнь такая – со слезами,
Мук терзаема штормами,
Фурий мерзостных когтями
Мира лишена всегда.
Но за Жизнью ожидает
Тех, кто стонет и страдает,
То Забвенье, что венчает
Тщетных поисков года.

In a vale of light and laughter,
Shining ‘neath the friendly sun,
Where fulfilment follow’d after
Ev’ry hope or dream begun;
Where an Aidenn, gay and glorious,
Beckon’d down the winsome way;
There my soul, o’er pain victorious,
Laugh’d and lingered – yesterday.

Green and narrow was my valley,
Temper’d with a verdant shade;
Sun-deck’d brooklets musically
Sparkled thro’ each glorious glade;
And at night the stars serenely
Glow’d betwixt the boughs o’erhead,
While Astarte, calm and queenly,
Floods of fairy radiance shed.

There amid the tinted bowers,
Raptur’d with the opiate spell
Of the grasses, ferns and flowers,
Poppy, phlox and pimpernel,
Long I lay, entranc’d and dreaming,
Pleas’d with Nature’s bounteous store,
Till I mark’d the shaded gleaming
Of the sky, and yearn’d for more.

Eagerly the branches tearing,
Clear’d I all the space above,
Till the bolder gaze, high faring,
Scann’d the naked skies of Jove;
Deeps unguess’d now shone before me,
Splendid beam’d the solar car;
Wings of fervid fancy bore me
Out beyond the farthest star.

Reaching, gasping, wishing, longing
For the pageant brought to sight,
Vain I watch’d the gold orbs thronging
Round the celestial poles of light.
Madly on a moonbeam ladder
Heav’ns abyss I sought to scale,
Ever wiser, ever sadder,
As the fruitless task would fail.

Then, with futile striving sated,
Veer’d my soul to earth again,
Well content that I was fated
For a fair, yet low domain;
Pleasing thoughts of glad tomorrows,
Like the blissful moments past,
Lull’d to rest my transient sorrows,
Still’d my godless greed at last.

But my downward glance, returning,
Shrank in fright from what it spy’d;
Slopes in hideous torment burning,
Terror in the brooklet’s tide:
For the dell, of shade denuded
By my desecrating hand,
‘Neath the bare sky blaz’d and brooded
As a lost, accursed land.

В той долине смеха, света,
Внемлющей благим лучам,
Где недолго ждать ответа
Всем надеждам и мечтам,
Звал где Айденн в путь веселый,
Райской красотой искря —
Там душа моя без боли
В счастье нежилась – вчера.

Был мой дол зеленый, тесный,
В мягком сумраке листвы,
Ручейки на солнце с песней
Пенились среди травы;
Ночью звезды безмятежно
Ярко тлели в небесах,
И Астарты свет неспешно
Изливался в чудесах.

Средь раскрашенных беседок,
Опьяненный колдовством
Папоротниковых веток,
Маков с флоксами кругом,
Долго я лежал в мечтанье,
От щедрот Природы млел,
Вдруг узрел в листве мельканье
Неба – больше захотел.

Вырвав ветви торопливо,
Я расчистил вверх проход
И взметнул свой взгляд пытливо
Ввысь на обнаженный свод:
Бездны в яви засверкали,
Солнца пышно расцвели;
Крылья грез меня умчали
С дола прочь к звезде вдали.

Тотчас возжелав без меры
Сей открывшейся красы,
Тщетно я глядел на сферы
В злате вкруг небес оси.
Как безумный в бездну свода
Лез я по лучам луны —
Мудрость, скорбь взамен полета
Лишь познал до глубины.

Утомлен пустым стараньем,
На земную встал стезю
И смирился с обитаньем
В месте чудном, но внизу;
О приятном завтра думой,
Как о счастье в миг былой,
Вышел из тоски угрюмой,
Алчный грех изгнал долой.

Но мой взгляд при возвращенье
Отвратил внизу кошмар —
Склоны в адовом горенье,
В русле ручейка лишь пар:
Ибо дол, лишенный тени
Оскверняющей рукой,
Полыхал огнем геенны
Под дугой небес нагой.

As when the sun above a dusky wold
Springs into sight, and turns the gloom to gold,
Lights with his magic beams the dew-deck’d bow’rs,
And wakes to life the gay responsive flow’rs;
So now o’er realms where dark’ning dulness lies,
In solar state see shining Plunkett rise!
Monarch of Fancy! whose ethereal mind
Mounts fairy peaks, and leaves the throng behind;
Whose soul untainted bursts the bounds of space,
And leads to regions of supernal grace;
Can any praise thee with too strong a tone,
Who in this age of folly gleam’st alone?
Thy quill, Dunsany , with an art divine
Recalls the gods to each deserted shrine;
From mystic air a novel pantheon makes,
And with new spirits fills the meads and brakes;
With thee we wander thro’ primeval bow’rs,
For thou hast brought earth’s childhood back, and ours!
How leaps the soul, with sudden bliss increas’d,
When led by thee to lands beyond the East!
Sick of this sphere, in crime and conflict old,
We yearn for wonders distant and untold;
O’er Homer’s page a second time we pore,
And rack our brains for gleams of infant lore:
But all in vain – for valiant tho’ we strive
No common means those pictures can revive.
Then dawns Dunsany with celestial light,
And fulgent visions break upon our sight:
His barque enchanted each sad spirit bears
To shores of gold, beyond the reach of cares.
No earthly trammels now our thoughts may chain;
For childhood’s fancy hath come back again!
What glitt’ring worlds now wait our eager eyes!
What roads untrodden beckon thro’ the skies!
Wonders on wonders line the gorgeous ways,
And glorious vistas greet the ravish’d gaze;
Mountains of clouds, castles of crystal dreams,
Ethereal cities and Elysian streams;
Temples of blue, where myriad stars adore
Forgotten gods of aeons gone before!
Such are thine arts, Dunsany, such thy skill,
That scarce terrestrial seems thy moving quill;
Can man, and man alone, successful draw
Such scenes of wonder and domains of awe?
Our hearts, enraptur’d, fix thy mind’s abode
In high Pegãna; hail thee as a god;
And sure, can aught more high or godlike be
Than such a fancy as resides in thee?
Delighted Pan a friend and peer perceives
As thy sweet music stirs the sylvan leaves;
The Nine, transported, bless thy golden lyre,
Approve thy fancy, and applaud thy fire;
Whilst Jove himself assumes a brother’s tone,
And vows thy pantheon equal to his own.
Dunsany, may thy days be glad and long;
Replete with visions, and atune with song;
May thy rare notes increasing millions cheer,
Thy name beloved, and thy mem’ry dear!
‘Tis thou who hast in hours of dulness brought
New charms of language, and new gems of thought;
Hast with a poet’s grace enrich’d the earth
With aureate dreams as noble as thy birth.
Grateful we name thee, bright with fix’d renown,
The fairest jewel in Hibernia’s crown.