Ý. Äèêèíñîí. 448. This was a Poet It is That

448

Îí áûë ïîýò – êîìó äàíî
Ìûñëü äèñòèëëèðîâàòü
Èç ñòåðøèõñÿ çíà÷åíèé  ñëîâ
È ìàñëî îòæèìàòü –

Ýôèðíîå – èç ñîðíÿêîâ,
×òî ãèáíóò ó äâåðåé,
Òàê, ÷òî äîñàäóåò ëþáîé,
Êàê ñàì-òî íå ñóìåë.

Ñîçäàòåëü ñóùíîñòåé ïîýò –
Òîò, êòî èìååò âëàñòü
È â íàøåé âå÷íîé íèùåòå –
Äàðèòü áîãàòñòâîì íàñ,

Òàêèì, êîòîðîìó ãðàáåæ
Âðåäà íå íàíåñåò –
Âíå ðàìîê âðåìåíè îíî –
Äëÿ âñåõ – â ñåáå – æèâåò. 
21-22.08.2013
 




448

This was a Poet — It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings —
And Attar so immense

From the familiar species
That perished by the Door —
We wonder it was not Ourselves
Arrested it — before —

Of Pictures, the Discloser —
The Poet — it is He —
Entitles Us — by Contrast —
To ceaseless Poverty —

Of portion — so unconscious —
The Robbing — could not harm —
Himself — to Him — a Fortune —
Exterior — to Time —