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ГНЕЗДО ПЕВЧИХ ПТИЦ. ДЖАЙЛЗ ФЛЕТЧЕР СТАРШИЙ
В рамках литературных практик http://stihi.ru/2021/11/15/2504 авторам предлагается сделать перевод сонетов Джайлза Флетчера
Просьба: придерживаться 5-ти стопного ямба с чередованием мужской и женской рифмы.
ДЖАЙЛС ФЛЕТЧЕР-СТАРШИЙ – поэт, дипломат; учился в Итоне, Кембридже. По делам дипломатической службы бывал в Шотландии, Германии, России (1588). Впечатления о России отражены в труде «Of the Russe Commonwealth» (1591). Как поэт стал известен благодаря сборнику сонетов «Ликия, или Стихи о Любви» (1593) («Licia, or Poems of Love»).
Содержание:
- Sonnet 1. Sad, all alone, not long I musing sat
- Sonnet 2. Weary was LOVE, and sought to take his rest.
- Sonnet 3. The heavens beheld the beauty of my Queen
- Sonnet 4. LOVE and my Love did range the forest wild
- Sonnet 5. LOVE, with her hair, my Love by force hath tied
- Sonnet 6. My love amazed did blush herself to see
- Sonnet 7. Death in a rage assaulted once my heart
- Sonnet 8. Hard are the rocks, the marble, and the steel
- Sonnet 9. Love was laid down, all weary fast asleep
- Sonnet 10. A PAINTER drew the image of the boy
- Sonnet 11. In Ida Vale three Queens the Shepherd saw
- Sonnet 12. I wish sometimes, although a worthless thing
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LICIA,
or,
POEMS OF LOVE
in honour of
the admirable and singular virtues of
his Lady.
To the imitation of
the best Latin Poets, and others.
SONNET I.
Sad, all alone, not long I musing sat
But that my thoughts compelled me to aspire.
A laurel garland in my hand I gat,
So the Muses I approached the nigher.
My suit was this, A Poet to become;
To drink with them, and from the heavens be fed.
PHOEBUS denied; and sware, "There was no room
Such to be Poets as fond Fancy led."
With that I mourned, and sat me down to weep.
VENUS she smiled, and smiling to me said,
"Come drink with me, and sit thee still and sleep!"
This voice I heard, and VENUS I obeyed.
That poison, Sweet, hath done me all this wrong;
For now of Love must needs be all my Song.
SONNET II.
Weary was LOVE, and sought to take his rest.
He made his choice upon a Virgin's lap;
And slyly crept from thence into her breast,
Where still he meant to sport him in his hap.
The Virgin frowned, like PHOEBUS in a cloud,
"Go pack, sir boy, there is no room for such!
My breast no wanton foolish boys must shroud!"
This said my Love did give the Wag a touch.
Then as the foot, that treads the stinging snake,
Hastes to be gone, for fear what may ensue:
So LOVE, my Love was forced for to forsake;
And for more speed without his arrows flew.
"Pardon!", he said, "for why you seemed to me,
My mother VENUS in her pride to be."
SONNET III.
The heavens beheld the beauty of my Queen;
And all amazed, to wonder thus began:
"Why dotes not JOVE, as erst we all have seen,
And shapes himself like to a seemly man?
Mean are the matches which he sought before;
Like bloomless buds, too base to make compare:
And she alone hath treasured Beauty's store;
In whom all gifts and princely graces are."
CUPID replied, "I posted with the sun
To view the Maids that lived in all those days:
And none there was that might not well be won,
But She: most hard, most cold, made of delays."
Heavens were deceived, and wrong they do esteem;
She hath no heat, although She living seem.
SONNET IV.
LOVE and my Love did range the forest wild,
Mounted alike upon swift coursers both.
LOVE her encountered, though he was a child,
"Let's strive!" said he. Whereat my love was wroth;
And scorned the boy, and checked him with a smile.
"I mounted am and arm;d with my spear.
Thou art too weak! Thyself do not beguile!
I could thee conquer, if I naked were!"
With this LOVE wept, and then my Love replied:
"Kiss me, sweet boy, so! Weep, my boy, no more!"
Thus did my Love, and thus her force she tried:
LOVE was made ice, that fire was before.
A kiss of hers (as I, poor soul, do prove)
SONNET V.
LOVE, with her hair, my Love by force hath tied;
To serve her lips, her eyes, her voice, her hand.
I smiled for joy when I the boy espied
To lie unchained, and live at her command.
She, if She look, or kiss, or sing, or smile;
CUPID withal doth smile, doth sing, doth kiss.
Lips, hands, voice, eyes, all hearts that may beguile;
Because She scorns, all hearts but only this.
VENUS for this in pride began to frown,
That CUPID, born a god, inthralled should be:
She, in disdain, her pretty son threw down;
And in his place, with love she chain;d me.
So now, sweet Love, tho' I myself be thrall:
Not her a goddess, but thyself, I call.
SONNET VI.
My love amazed did blush herself to see,
Pictured by Art, all naked as she was.
"How could the Painter know so much by me,
Or Art effect what he hath brought to pass?
It is not like he naked me hath seen,
Or stood so nigh for to observe so much."
No, Sweet; his eyes so near have never been,
Nor could his hands by Art have cunning such;
I showed my heart, wherein you printed were,
You, naked you, as here you painted are;
In that, my Love, your picture I must wear,
And show't to all, unless you have more care.
Then take my heart, and place it with your own;
So shall you naked never more be known.
SONNET VII.
Death in a rage assaulted once my heart
With love of her, my love that doth deny.
I scorned his force, and wished him to depart,
I heartless was, and therefore could not die.
I live in her, in her I placed my life,
She guides my soul, and her I honour must.
Nor is this life, but yet a living strife,
A thing unmeet, and yet a thing most just.
CUPID enraged did fly to make me love,
My heart lay guarded with those burning eyes
The sparks whereof denied him to remove;
So conquered now, he like a captive lies;
Thus two at once by love are both undone,
My heart not loved; and armless VENUS' son.
SONNET VIII.
Hard are the rocks, the marble, and the steel,
The ancient oak with wind and weather tossed;
But you, my love, far harder do I feel
Than flint, or these, or is the winter's frost.
My tears too weak, your heart they cannot move;
My sighs, that rock, like wind it cannot rent;
Too tiger-like, you swear you cannot love;
But tears and sighs you fruitless back have sent.
The frost too hard, not melted with my flame,
I cinders am, and yet you feel no heat.
Surpass not these, sweet love, for very shame!
But let my tears, my vows, my sighs entreat!
Then shall I say, as I by trial find;
These all are hard; but you, my Love, are kind.
SONNET IX.
Love was laid down, all weary fast asleep,
Whereas my love his armor took away;
The boy awaked, and straight began to weep,
But stood amazed, and knew not what to say.
"Weep not, my boy," said VENUS to her son,
"Thy weapons none can wield, but thou alone;
LICIA the fair, this harm to thee hath done,
I saw her here, and presently was gone;
She will restore them, for she hath no need
To take thy weapons, where thy valour lies;
For men to wound, the Fates have her decreed,
With favour, hands, with beauty, and with eyes."
No, VENUS, no! she scorns them, credit me!
But robbed thy son that none might care for thee!
SONNET X.
A PAINTER drew the image of the boy,
Swift LOVE, with wings all naked, and yet blind;
With bow and arrows bent for to destroy;
I blamed his skill; and fault I thus did find
"A needless task I see thy cunning take:
Misled by love, thy fancy thee betrayed.
Love is no boy, nor blind, as men him make;
Nor weapons wears, whereof to be afraid:
But if thou Love wilt paint with greatest skill;
A Love, a Maid, a goddess, and a Queen!
Wonder and view at LICIA's picture still!
For other Love the World hath never seen;
For She alone, all hope, all comfort gives:
Men's hearts, souls, all, led by her favour live."
SONNET XI.
In Ida Vale three Queens the Shepherd saw,
Queens of esteem, divine they were all three.
A sight of worth, but I a wonder show,
Their virtues all in one alone to be.
LICIA the fair, surpassing VENUS's pride,
(The matchless Queen, commander of the gods,
When, drawn with doves, she in her pomp doth ride)
Hath far more beauty, and more grace by odds:
JUNO, JOVE's wife, unmeet to make compare,
I grant a goddess, but not half so mild;
MINERVA wise, a virtue; but not rare.
Yet these are mean, if that my Love but smiled.
She them surpasseth, when their prides are full
As far as they surpass the meanest trull.
SONNET XII.
I wish sometimes, although a worthless thing,
Spurred by ambition, glad for to aspire,
Myself a Monarch, or some mighty King:
And then my thoughts do wish for to be higher.
But when I view what winds the cedars toss,
What storms men feel that covet for renown;
I blame myself that I have wished my loss,
And scorn a Kingdom, though it give a Crown.
A' LICIA, thou, the wonder of my thought,
My heart's content, procurer of my bliss,;
For whom a crown I do esteem as naught,
As Asia's wealth, too mean to buy a kiss.
Kiss me, sweet Love! this favor do for me;
Then Crowns and Kingdoms shall I scorn for thee.
*** Галина ВОЛОШИНА
СОНЕТ I
Сидел в раздумьях в вечер безотрадный.
Позволил дерзким грёзам расцвести, -
И вот, держу в руках Нить Ариадны,
Что к Музе обещает привести.
Уверился: достоин стать Поэтом.
Вкусить небесной славы не шутя.
Но Солнце не ответило приветом:
«Нет-нет!-сказало, - здесь таким нельзя!»
Низвергнутый, готов был разрыдаться.
Венера улыбнулась мне в ночи:
«Пей лунный свет, оставь мольбы, проклятья,
И крепким сном печаль свою лечи!»
Я принял яд из уст светил, как плеть.
Ведь так хотелось песнь Любви пропеть.