Эдвард Роулэнд Силл (Edward Rowland Sill) Текст оригинала на английском языке To the Unknown Soul O SOUL, that somewhere art my very kin, From dusk and silence unto thee I call! I know not where thou dwellest: if within A palace or a hut; if great or small Thy state and store of fortune; if thou 'rt sad This moment, or most glad; The lordliest monarch or the lowest thrall. But well I know --- since thou 'rt my counterpart --- Thou bear'st a clouded spirit; full of doubt And old misgiving, heaviness of heart And lonliness of mind; long wearied out With climbing stairs that lead to nothing sure, With chasing lights that lure, In the thick murk that wraps us all about. As across many instruments a flute Breathes low, and only thrills its selfsame tone, That wakes in music while the rest are mute, So send thy voice to me! Then I alone Shall hear and answer; and we two will fare Together, and each bear Twin burdens, lighter now than either one. |
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