Известно чувство мне и вам

ПРОЛОГ к циклу "Дар кельи", http://stihi.ru/2026/10/19/7845

Оригинал и два варианта переводов на Английский


«Все несчастья людей происходят от неспособности спокойно сидеть в своей комнате в одиночестве».
       — Блез Паскаль, "Мысли"



Известно чувство мне и вам
Как попусту проходит время,
Минута здесь, неделя там,
И год прошёл часам не веря.
А как когда-то мудрецы
В короткой жизни успевали
Продумать и найти концы
В Вселенной путаной спирали.
У них был день пока светло,
Свечи огарок был им дорог,
Кому-то свет светил в окно,
Кому-то камеры был холод.
Им добровольно или властью
Пространство в келью сведено,
Но мысль свободная со страстью
Мир открывала им легко.
У них отняли все соблазны,
Что называлось всегда — жизнь,
Осталось то, что есть опасно —
Лишь сфокусированная мысль.
Как лазер к цели пробивалась,
Не отвлекаясь ни на что.
Из всех координат осталось
Лишь время, время — божество!
Оно ценилось больше злата,
Что мы забыли, простаки.
И потому открытия — плата
И смысл продуманной строки.


I

"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone."
     — Blaise Pascal, Pens;es

You know this feeling, so do I:
How aimlessly our hours run by,
A minute here, a week up there,
A year is gone, lost in despair.
Yet how did sages long ago,
In fleeting lives, manage to know,
And untangle, piece by piece,
The universe’s winding lease?
They had the day while daylight shone,
A precious candle stump to own;
For some, a window let light in,
For some, a cell where cold had been.
By choice or by a ruler’s hand,
Their world was bounded, small, and planned;
Yet mind, unfettered, wild, and bright,
Unveiled the world with easy light.
Stripped of the lures that we call "life,"
Set free from all distraction’s strife,
They kept the one true dangerous art:
A focused mind, a steadfast heart.
Like laser light it pierced the gloom,
Unswerving through the quiet room.
Of all coordinates once known,
Only time remained—a god alone!
It was revered far more than gold,
A truth we foolishly withhold.
And thus discoveries were paid,
In every thoughtful line they made.

II

A sense familiar to us all:
We watch our precious moments fall,
A minute lost, a week cast down,
A year flies by without a sound.
Yet how could ancient sages find
Within short lives, a boundless mind?
How did they trace each twist and thread
Of cosmic spirals overhead?
They worked while daylight filled the air,
A candle stub was prized and rare;
Some had a window's gentle light,
Some braved a cell's cold, lonely night.
By choice or by a sovereign's grace,
A single room became their place,
Yet thought, untamed and burning free,
Unwrapped the world's great mystery.
Reft of temptations, worldly strife,
Of all that men have labeled "life,"
They kept what holds the greatest power:
A focused mind in quiet hour.
Like laser beam it cut straight through,
Ignoring all that withdrew.
Of all dimensions, set or broad,
Remained but Time—the only god!
More prized than gold in days of old,
A truth we forgot, blind and bold.
And so discoveries became
The price and prize of thought's clear flame.