Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Ýìèëè Äèêèíñîí)

* * *

We never know how high we are  
  Till we are called to rise;  
And then, if we are true to plan,  
  Our statures touch the skies—  
   
The Heroism we recite
  Would be a daily thing,  
Did not ourselves the Cubits warp  
  For fear to be a King—

* * *

Íå çíàåì, êàê âåëèêè ìû:
Îòêëèêíóâøèñü íà çîâ,
Ìîãëè á ìû âñå âîññòàòü èç òüìû
Äî ñàìûõ îáëàêîâ.

Òîãäà á ãåðîéñòâî ñòàëî âäðóã
Íàø áóäíè÷íûé óäåë,
Íî ìåëêî ìåðèì ìû íàø äóõ,
Áîÿñü âåëèêèõ äåë.

Ïåðåâîä Ìèõàèëà Çåíêåâè÷à

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

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå (Poem to print)

Êîëè÷åñòâî îáðàùåíèé ê ñòèõîòâîðåíèþ: 916

Ïîñëåäíèå ñòèõîòâîðåíèÿ

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