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Ëó÷øå, ÷åì ìóçûêà. Ìíå ïðèâûêøåé
Ê ïåíèþ ïòèö – ìíå óñëûøàòü âäðóã
Âñå ïåñíè ìèðà ïðåîáðàçèâøèé,
Âñå èõ âêëþ÷èâøèé âûñîêèé çâóê.
Ýòà ìåëîäèÿ íå äàåòñÿ
 ðóêè – íè íîò åé, íè ïðàâèë íåò –
Íî êîìïîçèòîð – íåáåñíûé Ìîöàðò –
 íåé ðàñòâîðèòüñÿ, ñ íèì óìåðåòü.
Äåòè, óñëûøàâ ïðî ïåñíè ðàÿ,
Êàê èõ â Ýäåìå ïåëè ðó÷üè,
Äóìàþò, Åâó íå ïîíèìàÿ:
Êàê æå îòòóäà áûëî óéòè?
Âçðîñëûå, òå, êîíå÷íî, ìóäðåå:
Ãðåçû íåîïûòíîãî óìà,
Ñêàçêè, çàêîí÷èëîñü ñêàçîê âðåìÿ.
Äà, íî ÿ ñëûøàëà èõ ñàìà –
Çâóêè íåçäåøíèå. Äàæå â öåðêâè,
Êîãäà ïîñëåäíèé óøåë ñâÿòîé
È âñåïðîùåíèå âõîäèò â ñåðäöå,
Äàæå è ýòî âñå æå íå òî.
Èõ ñîõðàíÿþ êàê îáåùàíüå,
×òîáû íàïåòü èõ, ëþäåé áåãó,
Âñ¸ ðåïåòèðóþ ìèã ñëèÿíüÿ
Ñ âå÷íîé ìåëîäèåé òàì íàâåðõó.
Better — than Music! For I — who heard it —
I was used — to the Birds — before —
This — was different — 'Twas Translation —
Of all tunes I knew — and more —
'Twasn't contained — like other stanza —
No one could play it — the second time —
But the Composer — perfect Mozart —
Perish with him — that Keyless Rhyme!
So — Children — told how Brooks in Eden —
Bubbled a better — Melody —
Quaintly infer — Eve's great surrender —
Urging the feet — that would — not — fly —
Children — matured — are wiser — mostly —
Eden — a legend — dimly told —
Eve — and the Anguish — Grandame's story —
But — I was telling a tune — I heard —
Not such a strain — the Church — baptizes —
When the last Saint — goes up the Aisles —
Not such a stanza splits the silence —
When the Redemption strikes her Bells —
Let me not spill — its smallest cadence —
Humming — for promise — when alone —
Humming — until my faint Rehearsal —
Drop into tune — around the Throne —