Ðîáåðò Óèëüÿì Ñåðâèñ (Robert William Service)

Òùåñëàâèå

Åé íðàâèëîñü, êàê ÿ òàíöóþ;
À ÿ -  ïîëþáèë åå âìèã.
"Ïèñàòåëü? Ïîâåäàòü ïðîøó ÿ -
Íàïèñàíî ìíîãî ëè êíèã?"

"Íåìàëî. Áåñòñåëëåðîâ êó÷à"
"Êàêèå?.." - Ñðåäü áåëîãî äíÿ 
Êàê áóäòî íàäâèíóëàñü òó÷à -
Îíà íå ÷èòàëà ìåíÿ.

Áûëà îíà òàê ñèìïàòè÷íà!
Ìîÿ æå èçâåñòíîñòü, óâû,
Áûëà åé ñîâñåì áåçðàçëè÷íà:
"Ðîìàíîâ íå ïèøåòå âû:"

Î, çëûå êàïðèçû Àìóðà!
Î, ñëàâà - ïóñòàÿ òùåòà!
Íå çíàåò êîêåòêà è äóðà
Î êíèãàõ ìîèõ íè ÷åðòà!

×òî ñ íåé ÷åðåç ãîäû ñëó÷èòñÿ?
Ïðåäñòàâèë: ñèäèò ó îêíà;
Ñëåçà íàä ðîìàíîì ñòðóèòñÿ.
Î Áîæå! Óæàñíî æèðíà... 

Òàêóþ ëþáîâü - íà ïîìîéêó!
Áåæàòü - è áåæàòü ïîñêîðåé!
Íî óæàñ: ïðî÷ëà îíà áîéêî
Âäðóã ñòðîêè ïîýìû ìîåé.

Ïåðåâîä Ñåðãåÿ Øîðãèíà

Vanity

My tangoing seemed to delight her;
With me it was love at first sight.
I mentioned That I was a writer:
She asked me: "What is it you write?"
"Oh, only best-sellers," I told her.
Their titles?... She shook her blonde head;
The atmosphere seemed to grow colder:
Not one of my books had she read.

Oh, she was a beauty ensnaring,
And I was an author of note;
But little I saw she'd be caring
If never a novel I wrote.
Alas for the caprice of Cupid!
Alack for the phantom of Fame!
I thought her just homely and stupid:
She didn't know even my name.

I saw her a score of years after;
She gushed as I took off my hat;
But inwardly loud was my laughter,
For she was enormously fat.
Thank heaven I'd not made that error;
I saw Love drive off in a hearse;
But I too retreated in terror...
She started to quote me my verse.

1. Euthansia
2. The Ballad of the Leather Medal
3. Weary
4. My Childhood God
5. At San Sebastian

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 691

Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ

Ïîääåðæàòü ñàéò

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