Доносится из-за холма.Удар глухой во мгле ночной!Но не пронзил он грудь насквозь,Лишь вяло в ней отозвалось:Здесь даже колокол другой.Здесь всё другое — лес, поля,Душе — ни вехи, ни следа…Пустыня, памяти чужда,Неосвященная земля.
Г. Кружков
FROM «MAUD»
ИЗ ПОЭМЫ «МОД»
‘COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD’
ICome into the garden, Maud,For the black bat, night, has flown,Come into the garden, Maud,I am here at the gate alone;And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,And the musk of the rose is blown.IIFor a breeze of morning moves,And the planet of Love is on high,Beginning to faint in the light that she lovesOn a bed of daffodil sky,To faint in the light of the sun she loves,To faint in his light, and to die.IIIAll night have the roses heardThe flute, violin, bassoon;All night has the casement jessamine stirr’dTo the dancers dancing in tune;Till a silence fell with the waking bird,And a hush with the setting moon.IVI said to the lily, ‘There is but oneWith whom she has heart to be gay.When will the dancers leave her alone?She is weary of dance and play.’Now half to the setting moon are gone,And half to the rising day;Low on the sand and loud on the stoneThe last wheel echoes away.VI said to the rose, ‘The brief night goesIn babble and revel and wine.О young lord-lover, what sighs are those,For one that will never be thine?But mine, but mine,’ so I sware to the rose,‘For ever and ever, mine.’VIAnd the soul of the rose went into my blood,As the music clash’d in the hall;And long by the garden lake I stood,For I heard your rivulet fallFrom the lake to the meadow and on to the wood.Our wood, that is dearer than all;VIIFrom the meadow your walks have left so sweet