Ýìèëè Äèêèíñîí (Emily Elizabeth Dickinson)

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Ïðåäñòàâü, ÷òî ìàëåíüêèé öâåòîê
Èç ñåâåðíûõ øèðîò
Ñïóñòèëñÿ âíèç âäîëü äîëãîòû
È âîò, îòêðûâøè ðîò,
Ãëÿäèò íà ëåòíèé êîíòèíåíò,
Íà ñîëíöå áåç ãðàíèö,
Íà ïåñòðóþ òîëïó öâåòîâ,
Íà èíîñòðàíöåâ-ïòèö!
Ñêàæè, ïóñòü äàæå ýòî Ðàé,
Êóäà çàáðåë öâåòîê,
Òî ÷òî ñ òîãî? Êàêîé òîìó
Òû ïîäâåäåøü èòîã!

Ïåðåâîä Ëåîíèäà Ñèòíèêà

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As if some little Arctic flower
Upon the polar hem -
Went wandering down the Latitudes
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer -
To firmaments of sun -
To strange, bright crowds of flowers -
And birds, of foreign tongue!
I say, As if this little flower
To Eden, wandered in -
What then? Why nothing,
Only, your inference therefrom!

1. Of all the Sounds Despatched Abroad
2. The Bustle in a House
3. Much Madness is Divinest Sense
4. Escape
5. To Fight Aloud is Very Brave

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 993

Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ

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