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переклад Ольги Брильово╖
J.R.R.Tolkien Ан-теннат про Берена й Лутiен з | |
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Ряснi╓ листя навеснi, Ряснi╓ болиголова, У напiвсутiнковiм снi Зоряне сяйво мерехтить, Лунають радiснi пiснi, Що ╖х сопiлочка спiва, I Тiнув'╓ль у променi Танцю╓ так, немов летить. А Берен вiд холодних гiр Iде, i гине в самотi, I переходить через вир, Що край ельфiйський боронить, I бачить квiти золотi У хащi болиголови, I коси, чорнi та густi, I корзно золотом горить. Цiлющий спiв утому змив Зi збитих нiг мандрiвника Пiдвiв його, i той побрiв Туди, де сяйво трiпотить, Де дiва, дивна та легка, Як соловей, спiва без слiв, Де зачарована стежка Промiж деревами бiжить. Як листя липове, легкi Кроки ╖╖ маленьки╖х нiг, Святим срiблом бринять струмки Пiдземна музика дзвенить. Аж ген на землю холод лiг, I вмерли звуки гомiнкi, Лише уздовж нiмих дорiг Пожовкле листя шелестить. Блука╓ Берен у лiсах, Шука╓ дiву чарiвну, Пита╓ зорi в небесах, Пита╓ мiсяць, що не спить, Чи не ╖╖ там плащ зблиснув, Немов пiд сонцем бiлий птах З верхвiки пагорба майнув? Нi, то хмаринка мерехтить. Але з останнiм днем зими Знов залунав дiвочий спiв, I щедрий дощ дерева вмив, I знову рiчка гомонить. Одужав Берен i зрадiв, Знайшовши перший нiфредiл. Олень у хащi засурмив, Лань до коханого спiшить. Знов дiва ледве не втекла - Та Берен крикнув: "Тiнув'╓ль!" Вона застигла, завмерла - Мов зачарована, сто╖ть. Ельфiйський жоден менестрель Тих чар iз не╖ б не зiрвав - Бо з волi року Тiнув'╓ль В обiймах Берена лежить. А вiн чита╓ в глибинi ╥╖ очей, як в небесах. Тремтiння зорь у вишинi, В них вiддзеркалю╓ й горить. В ╖╖ незчисленних лiтах - Довiчна юнiсть i краса, А руки сильнi та нiжнi - ╥х дотик вб'╓ i вiдродить. О, довгим був ╖х дивний шлях! У темрявi Залiзних гiр, На них чигали бiль та жах, Вогонь i меч, полон i смерть, Вiйна, чаклунство, лютий звiр. Вони пройшли, як по ножах, Крiзь сотнi мук, крiзь смертний вир, З'╓днавши сяйво сво╖х серць. |
The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade a light was seen Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinúviel was dancing there To music of a pipe unseen, And light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering. There Beren came from mountains cold, And lost he wandered under leaves, And where the Elven-river rolled He walked alone and sorrowing. He peered between the hemlock-leaves And saw in wander flowers of gold Upon her mantle and her sleeves, And her hair like shadow following. Enchantment healed his weary feet That over hills were doomed to roam; And forth he hastened, strong and fleet, And grasped at moonbeams glistening. Through woven woods in Elvenhome She tightly fled on dancing feet, And left him lonely still to roam In the silent forest listening. He heard there oft the flying sound Of feet as light as linden-leaves, Or music welling underground, In hidden hollows quavering. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves, And one by one with sighing sound Whispering fell the beechen leaves In the wintry woodland wavering. He sought her ever, wandering far Where leaves of years were thickly strewn, By light of moon and ray of star In frosty heavens shivering. Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering. When winter passed, she came again, And her song released the sudden spring, Like rising lark, and falling rain, And melting water bubbling. He saw the elven-flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling. Again she fled, but swift he came. Tinúviel! Tinúviel! He called her by her elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinúviel That in his arms lay glistening. As Beren looked into her eyes Within the shadows of her hair, The trembling starlight of the skies He saw there mirrored shimmering. Tinúviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair And arms like silver glimmering. Long was the way that fate them bore, O'er stony mountains cold and grey, Through halls of iron and darkling door, And woods of nightshade morrowless. The Sundering Seas between them lay, And yet at last they met once more, And long ago they passed away In the forest singing sorrowless. |
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Отзывы Архивов
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Хранители Архивов |
