Струны неба

          На ноте "ню"
    (обнаженная натура души)

Небо хмурится.
дождь по улицам
всё пронзительней и смелей.
ветер хлещет, лужи плещутся
тучи тёмные и плотней.
гром раскатами, небо вязкое,
дождь неистовый, льёт сильней
мы в укрытиях, не на улице.
от напасти той
как спастись?
ожидание плюс терпение.
главное: не проспи!

стрелы молний
подрастянуты:
нити неба по всей длине
струны неба, что невидимы:
от заката на горизонте
до восхода
с другой стороны.
чистым золотом
со свечением
нутряной занебесной
изначальной
голубизны.

струны неба
к душам привязаны.
хочешь верь, не хочешь - не верь.
но обяжут и немыслимо!
пусть не смело и не уверенно.
кто как сможет.
душою петь.
не приказ или указание.
твой же голос в тебе: внутри.
тыщи лет  песни копились:
в кладовой сокровищ
каждой души.

перевод:

The Sky Is Frowning

The sky is frowning.
Rain across the streets
Grows sharper, bolder with each beat.
Wind lashes out, puddles splash and leap,
Clouds grow dark and thicker, dense and deep.

Thunder rolls in rumbling volleys,
Sky turns thick, a gloomy spell;
Rain is fierce, it pours more strongly —
We are sheltered, not outside.

How to escape this onslaught dire?
Patience plus waiting — that’s the fire.
Most important: don’t you sleep too tight!

Lightning bolts are stretched on high,
Threads of sky across the skyline,
Strings of heaven, barely seen —
From the sunset on the horizon,
To the dawn, on the other side,
Pure gold with inner gleaming,
From the primal, deep-born
Azure of the skies above, unseen.

Strings of sky are tied to souls,
Believe if you want — or don’t, that’s your role.
But they’ll bind us, it’s unthinkable,
Not with boldness, not with ease,
Each will do it as they please —
Sing with soul, as best you can,
Not a command, not a plan.

Your own voice lives deep inside,
Thousands of years of songs reside
In the treasure vaults that hide
Within each soul, deep and wide.

перевод:
укороченной версии.

strings of the sky

The sky is frowning.
Rain falls down the streets,
Growing sharper and bolder with each beat.
Wind lashes out, puddles splash and leap,
Clouds turn darker, thicker — deep on deep.

The strings of heaven
Are tied to souls below.
So unthinkable — you may not believe,
But somehow, in autumn, they will compel —
Though timidly, uncertainly,
As each one can,
To sing — with soul.

Вариант 1 (близкий к оригиналу, с сохранением образов):

The sky is frowning.
Rain falls along the streets,
Growing sharper and bolder.
Wind lashes, puddles splash,
Clouds grow darker and denser.

The strings of heaven
Are tied to souls.
So unthinkable — you may not believe.
But somehow, in autumn, they will compel —
Though timidly and uncertainly.
As each one can.
To sing with soul.

Вариант 2 (более поэтичный и ритмичный):

The sky frowns low.
Down the streets the rain does flow,
Ever sharper, ever bolder as it goes.
The wind whips hard, the puddles leap and throw,
Darker clouds, more dense — a heavy row.

Heaven’s strings are bound to hearts below,
Unthinkable, though you may not know.
Yet in autumn’s hush, they’ll call us so —
Timid, unsure, the way we go.
Each in their way, without a plan,
To sing — with all the soul we can.

Вариант 3 (лаконичный и атмосферный):

Sky frowns.
Rain on streets —
Sharper, bolder now.
Wind whips, puddles splash.
Dark, denser clouds.

Strings of sky
Tied to souls.
Unthinkable — yet it’s so.
Autumn will compel, somehow —
Timidly, unsure.
Each as they can.
Sing with soul.

Вариант 4 (драматичный, архаичный):

The sky scowls in disdain.
Rain pierces the streets with cold disdain,
Cutting sharper, daring bolder each beat.
Fierce wind lashes out, puddles churn and complain,
Heavy clouds, dark and dense, the storm’s deceit.

Lo! The heavenly strings, to mortal souls entwined,
A thought unthinkable — though faith be blind.
Yet when autumn comes, a call divine,
Shall bid us sing — though faint, undefined.
Each soul, as it is able, shall arise,
And sing, with all the spirit in its eyes.

Вариант 5 (созерцательный, осовремененный):

The sky wears a frown.
Gentle rain along the streets glides down,
Yet sharper now, a touch more bold.
Soft wind stirs, and puddles softly sound,
Clouds darken, gather, growing dense and cold.

Sky strings
Connected to our souls.
Crazy, I know — but just roll with it.
Somehow, autumn’s gonna make us do it —
Maybe shy, maybe unsure.
Whatever way we can.
Just sing from the soul.