Да, я презрен Судьбой без ласк твоих,
И в пору одиночество оплакать
Глухому небу – тщетностью молитв,
Проклятьем звезд и волей Зодиака.
Не тот, кто ожиданием богат,
Красив собой и в окруженье слуг –
Искусства жить и мудрости услад
Мне не дано, единственный мой друг.
Средь этих мыслей, боль свою кляня,
К тебе одной в мечте своей взыскую,
Как жаворонок на восходе дня
Возносит к небу песенку земную –
Нет драгоценнее любви твоей
В жилище муз, в чертогах королей!
_______________________________________
When in disgrace with Fortune and men\'s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man\'s art and that man\'s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven\'s gate;
For thy sweet love rememb\'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
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совершенствовать свои творческие способности
Насіння (The seed) - Калінін Микола Це переклад з Роберта У. Сервіса (Robert W. Service)
I was a seed that fell
In silver dew;
And nobody could tell,
For no one knew;
No one could tell my fate,
As I grew tall;
None visioned me with hate,
No, none at all.
A sapling I became,
Blest by the sun;
No rumour of my shame
Had any one.
Oh I was proud indeed,
And sang with glee,
When from a tiny seed
I grew a tree.
I was so stout and strong
Though still so young,
When sudden came a throng
With angry tongue;
They cleft me to the core
With savage blows,
And from their ranks a roar
Of rage arose.
I was so proud a seed
A tree to grow;
Surely there was no need
To lay me low.
Why did I end so ill,
The midst of three
Black crosses on a hill
Called Calvary?
