Posted in Правда (NO not that one), Language, Music, Music History, Uncategorized

The Forsaken Merman: To a Familiar Genius Flying By

Ernest Farrar

 

л НЙНПРТПМЕФЕЧЫЕНХ ЪОБЛПНПНХ ЗЕОЙА

уЛБЦЙ, ЛФП ФЩ, РМЕОЙФЕМШ ВЕЪЩНСООЩК?
у ЛБЛЙИ ОЕВЕУ РТЙНЮБМУС ФЩ ЛП НОЕ?
ъБЮЕН ПРСФШ ЧМЕЮЕЫШ Л ПВЕФПЧБООПК,
дБЧОП, ДБЧОП РПЛЙОХФПК УФТБОЕ?

оЕ ФЩ МЙ ФПФ, ЛПФПТЩК ЦЙЪОШ НМБДХА
фБЛ УМБДПУФОП НЕЮФБНЙ ХУЩРМСМ
й Ч УФБТЙОХ РТП ЗПУФША ОЕЪЕНОХА –
рТП НЙМХА ОБДЕЦДХ ЕК ЫЕРФБМ?

оЕ ФЩ МЙ ФПФ, ЛЕН ЧУЕ ЧП ДОЙ РТЕЛТБУОЩ
фБЛ ЦЙМП ФБН, Ч УЮБУФМЙЧЩИ ФЕИ ЛТБСИ,
зДЕ МХЗ ДХЫЙУФ, ЗДЕ ЧПДЩ УЧЕФМП-СУОЩ,
зДЕ ЧЕУЕМ ДЕОШ ОБ ЮЙУФЩИ ОЕВЕУБИ?

оЕ ФЩ МШ ЧП ЗТХДШ У ЦЙЧЩН ЧЕУОЩ ДЩИБОШЕН
фБЙОУФЧЕООПК ХОЩМПУФША ЧМЕФБМ,
еЕ ФЕУОЙМ ФПНЙФЕМШОЩН ЦЕМБОШЕН
й ФТЕРЕФОЩН ЧЕУЕМШЕН ЧПМОПЧБМ?

рПЬЪЙЙ УЧСЭЕООЩН ЧДПИОПЧЕОШЕН
оЕ ФЩ МШ У ДХЫПК ОПУЙМУС Ч ЧЩУПФХ,
рТЕД ОЕК ЗПТЕМ ВПЦЕУФЧЕООЩН ЧЙДЕОШЕН,
тБЪПВМБЮБМ ЕК ЦЙЪОЙ ЛТБУПФХ?

ч ЮБУЩ ХФТБФ, Ч ЮБУЩ РЕЮБМЙ ФБКОПК,
оЕ ФЩ МШ ЧУЕЗДБ ВЕУЕДПК УЕТДГБ ВЩМ,
еЗП УНЙТСМ ХФЕИПА УМХЮБКОПК
й ФЙИПА ОБДЕЦДПА ГЕМЙМ?

й ОЕ ФЕВЕ МШ ЧУЕЗДБ ПОБ ЧОЙНБМБ
ч ЮЙУФЕКЫЙЕ НЙОХФЩ ВЩФЙС,
лПЗДБ УХДШВЩ УЧСФЩОА РПУФЙЗБМБ,
лПЗДБ МЙЫШ вПЗ УЧЙДЕФЕМШ ВЩМ ЕС?

лБЛХА Ц ЧЕУФШ РТЙОЕУ ФЩ, НПК РМЕОЙФЕМШ?
йМЙ ПРСФШ НЕЮФПК МЙЫШ РПНБОЙЫШ
й, РТЕЦОЙИ ДХН ОБРТБУОЩК РТПВХДЙФЕМШ,
п УЮБУФЙЙ ЫЕРОЕЫШ Й ЪБНПМЮЙЫШ?

п зЕОЙК НПК, РПВХДШ ЕЭЕ УП НОПА;
вЩЧБМЩК ДТХЗ, ПФМЕФПН ОЕ УРЕЫЙ;
пУФБОШУС, ВХДШ НОЕ ЦЙЪОЙА ЪЕНОПА,
вХДШ БОЗЕМПН-ИТБОЙФЕМЕН ДХЫЙ.

 

To a Familiar Genius Flying By

Reveal yourself, anonymous enchanter!
What heaven hastens you to me?
Why draw me to that promised land again
That I gave up so long ago?

Was it not you who in my youth
Enchanted me with such sweet dreams,
Did you not whisper, long ago,
Dear hopes of a guests ethereal?

Was it not you through whom all lived
In golden days, in happy lands
Of fragrant meadows, waters bright,
Where days were merry ?neath clear skies?

Was it not you who breathed into my vernal breast
Some melancholy mysteries
Tormenting it with keen desire
Exciting it to anxious joy?

Was it not you who bore my soul aloft
Upon the inspiration of your sacred verse,
Who flamed before me like a holy vision,
Initiating me into life’s beauty?

In hours lost, hours of secret grief,
Did you not always murmur to my heart,
With happy comfort soothe it
And nurture it with quiet hope?

Did not my soul forever heed you
In all the purest moments of my life
When’ere it glimpsed fate’s sacred essence
With only God to witness it?

What news bring you, O, my enchantress?
Or will you once more call in dreams
Awaken futile thoughts of old,
Whisper of joy and then fall silent?

O spirit, bide with me awhile;
O, faithful friend, haste not away;
Stay, please become my earthly life,
O, Guardian angel of my soul.

Васи́лий  Жуко́вский

 

Author:

"If he's honest, he'll steal; if he's human, he'll murder; if he's faithful, he'll deceive. Being at a loss to resolve these questions, I am resolved to leave them without any resolution." I have so much to say to you that I am afraid I shall tell you nothing."

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