Из сотен прочитанных замечательных стихов Эмили Дикинсон я выбрала здесь самые любимые, сопроводив их прекрасным, на мой взгляд, переводом на русский язык. Авторов нескольких переводных стихов найти не смогла.
Эмили Элизабет Дикинсон ( 1830 , Амхерст, Массачусетс — 1886 года, там же) — американская поэтесса.
При жизни опубликовала менее десяти стихотворений (большинство источников называют цифры от семи до десяти) из тысячи восьмисот, написанных ею. Даже то, что было опубликовано, подверглось серьёзной редакторской переработке, чтобы привести стихотворения в соответствие с поэтическими нормами того времени. Стихи Дикинсон не имеют аналогов в современной ей поэзии. Их строки коротки, названия, как правило, отсутствуют, и часто встречаются необычная пунктуация и использование заглавных букв. Многие её стихи содержат мотив смерти и бессмертия, эти же сюжеты пронизывают её письма к друзьям.
Хотя большинство её знакомых знали о том, что Дикинсон пишет стихи, масштаб её творчества стал известен только после её смерти
***
Паук – сам из себя – прядет
Серебряный уток –
Разматывая, как танцор,
Мерцающий моток –
Его призванье – украшать
Убогость наших стен –
Как бы из пустоты – творя
Свой дивный гобелен –
Из мысли – целый мир соткать –
И радугу – из мглы –
Чтоб через час – комком свисать
С хозяйкиной метлы –
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
Семья Дикинсон занимала почтенное положение в Амхерсте, штат Массачусетс. Дед поэтессы был одним из основателей Амхерстского колледжа, где ее отец служил казначеем, одновременно занимаясь адвокатской практикой и политической деятельностью – однажды он даже избирался в Палату представителей Конгресса США. Выросшие дети не разлетелись из гнезда: старший брат Остин, женившись, жил в соседнем доме, младшая сестра Лавиния, как и Эмили, не вышла замуж.
Главным событием молодости Эмили Дикинсон стала, по-видимому, дружба с молодым адвокатом Бенджамином Ньютоном, проходившим практику в конторе ее отца. Он руководил чтением, учил восхищаться великой поэзией, понимать красоту и величие мира. В 1850 году он уехал из Амхерста, а три года спустя умер. Много позднее Дикинсон вспоминала: “Когда я была еще совсем девочкой, у меня был друг, учивший меня Бессмертию, – но он отважился подойти к нему слишком близко – и уже не вернулся”.
В разлуке с Ньютоном у Эмили созрела мысль посвятить свою жизнь поэзии. Но после смерти старшего друга источник ее стихов пересох. Новое дыхание пришло в конце 1850-х годов, в разгар эпистолярного романа с сорокалетним священником из Филадельфии Чарльзом Уодсвортом. Была ли это любовь, душевная привязанность или мистическая близость, ясно одно – это было чувство исключительной интенсивности. Оно породило настоящий творческий взрыв: подсчитано, что только за три года с 1862 по 1864 ею написано более семисот стихотворений.
В том же самом 1862 году случилось так, что Эмили Дикинсон завязала переписку с известным в Новой Англии литератором Томасом Хиггинсоном, ставшим на многие годы ее постоянным корреспондентом и “поэтическим наставником”, а также издателем первого ее сборника стихов – но уже после смерти поэтессы.
Я взял слова “поэтический наставник” в кавычки, потому что их отношения были своеобразны: в каждом письме Эмили просила у Хиггинсона оценки и совета, назвала себя смиренной ученицей, но ни разу не воспользовалась его советами и продолжала все делать по-своему. А он указывал на просчеты и огрехи в ее стихах – неправильные ритмы и рифмы, странную грамматику – все, что было индивидуальной, во многом новаторской манерой Дикинсон, и что сумели адекватно оценить лишь критики XX века.
Литературное наследие Эмили Дикинсон – около тысячи восьмисот стихотворений, большая часть которых была найдена в комоде после ее смерти, и три тома писем, многие из которых не менее замечательны, чем ее стихи.
Григорий Кружков
(из предисловия к собственным переводам стихов Е.Д. )
**************************************************************************************************
***
They say that «Time assuages» —
Time never did assuage-
An actual suffering strengthens
As Sinews do, with age-
Time is a Test of Trouble,
But not a Remedy-
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no Malady-
Сказали: «Время лечит».
Не лечит никогда.
Страданье, как и мышцы,
Лишь укрепят года.
Но время — как проверка
Для тех, кто уцелел.
С годами стало легче?
Ну, значит, не болел.
(перевод ?)
***
Too few the mornings be,
Too scant the nigthts.
No lodging can be had
For the delights
That come to earth to stay,
But no apartment find
And ride away.
Здесь слишком кратки дни
И скудны ночи,
Чтобы могли они
Сосредоточить
Восторги, что здесь жить хотели,
Но не нашли приюта
И улетели.
(пер. Леонид Ситник)
***
The Road was lit with Moon and star—
The Trees were bright and still—
Descried I—by the distant Light
A Traveller on a Hill—
To magic Perpendiculars
Ascending, though Terrene—
Unknown his shimmering ultimate—
But he indorsed the sheen—
Звезда над полем – и луна
Осеребрила склон –
Далекий путник на холме
Сияньем окружен –
Какую он штурмует высь –
Печальный сын равнин?
Но эту даль и млечный свет –
Он оправдал – один –
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
To mend each tattered Faith
There is a needle fair
Though no appearance indicate
‘Tis threaded in the Air
And though it do not wear
As if it never Tore
‘Tis very comfortable indeed
And spacious as before
Чтоб аккуратно зачинить
Изодранную Веру –
Нужна невидимая нить –
Из воздуха – к примеру –
Стежок невидимой иглы –
Взгляните – вот как ловко –
И вновь она – целехонька –
Сияет, как обновка!
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
How much the present moment means
To those who’ve nothing more —
The Fop — the Carp — the Atheist —
Stake an entire store
Upon a Moment’s shallow Rim
While their commuted Feet
The Torrents of Eternity
Do all but inundate —
Как много значит миг для тех,
Кто только им богат!
Повеса – Щеголь – Атеист –
Лелеют – будто клад –
Один быстротекущий миг –
Пока у самых ног
Вскипает – затопляя их –
Бессмертия поток –
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
A Word dropped careless on a Page
May stimulate an eye
When folded in perpetual seam
The Wrinkled Maker lie
Infection in the sentence breeds
We may inhale Despair
At distances of Centuries
From the Malaria —
Одна случайная строка
Порой зацепит глаз –
Когда творца простыл и след –
Сильна зараза фраз –
И через целые века,
Быть может, ты вдохнешь –
Того отчаянья туман –
Той малярии дрожь.
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
I held a Jewel in my fingers –
And went to sleep –
The day was warm, and winds were prosy –
I said «‘Twill keep» –
I woke – and chid my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone –
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own –
Я сжала аметист в руке –
И спать легла –
“Он мой, – шептала я сквозь сон –
В нем нету зла”.
Проснулась – где мой талисман?
Исчез – во сне –
Лишь аметистовая грусть –
Осталась мне –
***
If you were coming in the Fall,
I’d brush the Summer by
With half a smile, and half a spurn,
As Housewives do, a Fly.
If I could see you in a year,
I’d wind the months in balls—
And put them each in separate Drawers,
For fear the numbers fuse—
If only Centuries, delayed,
I’d count them on my Hand,
Subtracting, til my fingers dropped
Into Van Dieman’s Land,
If certain, when this life was out—
That yours and mine, should be
I’d toss it yonder, like a Rind,
And take Eternity—
But, now, uncertain of the length
Of this, that is between,
It goads me, like the Goblin Bee—
That will not state— its sting.
Шепни, что осенью придешь –
И лето я смахну,
Как надоевшего шмеля,
Прилипшего к окну.
А если год придется ждать –
Чтобы ускорить счет –
Смотаю месяцы в клубки
И суну их в комод.
И если впереди – века,
Я буду ждать – пускай
Плывут века, как облака
В заокеанский рай –
И если встреча суждена
Не здесь – в ином миру,
Я жизнь сдеру – как шелуху –
И вечность изберу –
Но мне – увы – неведом срок –
И день в тумане скрыт –
И ожиданье – как оса
Голодная – язвит.
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
It dropped so low – in my Regard –
I heard it hit the Ground –
And go to pieces on the Stones
At bottom of my Mind –
Yet blamed the Fate that flung it – less
Than I denounced Myself,
For entertaining Plated Wares
Upon My Sliver Shelf –
Столь низко пал – в моих глазах –
Я видела – как он –
Вдруг раскололся на куски –
Издав печальный звон –
Но не судьбу бранила я –
А лишь себя одну –
Что вознесла – такой предмет –
В такую вышину –
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
Not all die early, dying young—
Maturity of Fate
Is consummated equally
In Ages, or a Night—
A Hoary Boy, I’ve known to drop
Whole statured—by the side
Of Junior of Fourscore—’twas Act
Not Period—that died.
Не всяк умерший молодым
Безвременно поник –
Бывает юноша – седым,
Ребячливым – старик.
Судьба свершается над тем,
Кто стать собой успел –
Деяний счет, а не годов
Решает – кто созрел.
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This — would be Poetry —
Or Love — the two coeval come —
We both and neither prove —
Experience either and consume —
For None see God and live —
Нагромоздить миры – как гром –
И разнести их в прах –
Чтоб содрогнулись все и вся –
Вот это – о стихах –
И о любви – они равны –
То и другое – Вспых –
И – Тьма – кто Бога увидал –
Тому не быть в живых –
(пер. Григорий Кружков)
***
The Dying need but little, Dear,
A Glass of Water’s all,
A Flower’s unobtrusive Face
To punctuate the Wall,
A Fan, perhaps, a Friend’s Regret
And Certainty that one
No color in the Rainbow
Perceive, when you are gone.
Что нам потребно в смертный час?
Для губ – воды глоток,
Для жалости и красоты –
На тумбочке цветок,
Прощальный взгляд – негромкий вздох –
И – чтоб для чьих-то глаз –
Отныне цвет небес поблек
И свет зари погас.
***
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
Мысль умирает, говорят,
Лишь произнесена.
А я скажу,
Что в этот миг
Рождается она.
(перевод ?)
100 Uplifting Quotes By Emily Dickinson, The Author Of The Complete Poems
Famous As: One of the Leading 19th-Century American Poets
Born In: Amherst, Massachusetts, United States
Died At Age: 55
‘Because I could not stop for death; He kindly stopped for me’ — words by Emily Dickinson say a lot about the brilliance of this American poet. Mostly unrecognized at her own time, today, Emily Dickinson is one of the most treasured American poets. She gained prominence post her death for her unusual use of form and syntax. A private person, Dickinson lived a life of seclusion and simplicity. However, this did not come in way of her creativity as she penned some of the greatest and most powerful poetry ever written. Most of her works dwelled on the themes of immortality and death. A trademark style of this prolific poet was to express far-reaching ideas in short, compact phrases. Her words left a lasting imprint on the mind of the readers and have the ability to move and provoke. Here are some of the selected quotes by Emily Dickinson.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.Emily Dickinson
Forever is composed of nows.Emily Dickinson
That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.Emily Dickinson
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry.Emily Dickinson
Not knowing when the dawn will come
I open every door.Emily Dickinson
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.Emily Dickinson
Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.Emily Dickinson
Saying nothing sometimes says the most.Emily Dickinson
This is my letter to the world
That never wrote to meEmily Dickinson
I dwell in possibility…Emily Dickinson
Nature is a haunted house—but Art—is a house that tries to be haunted.Emily Dickinson
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.Emily Dickinson
Beauty is not caused. It is.Emily Dickinson
Pardon My Sanity In A World InsaneEmily Dickinson
Bring me the sunset in a cup.Emily Dickinson
Dogs are better than human beings because they know but do not tell.Emily Dickinson
A Word is Dead
A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.Emily Dickinson
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.Emily Dickinson
I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.Emily Dickinson
Truth is so rare, it is delightful to tell it.Emily Dickinson
Heart, we will forget him,
You and I, tonight!
You must forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.Emily Dickinson
The dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul—BOOKS.Emily Dickinson
Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.Emily Dickinson
PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there’s a word to lift your hat to… to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that’s the genius behind poetry.Emily Dickinson
I don’t profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense.Emily Dickinson
The Heart wants what it wants — or else it does not careEmily Dickinson
We turn not older with years but newer every day.Emily Dickinson
One need not be a chamber to be haunted.Emily Dickinson
Till I loved I never lived.Emily Dickinson
The lovely flowers
embarrass me.
They make me regret
I am not a bee…Emily Dickinson
I felt it shelter to speak to you.Emily Dickinson
Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.Emily Dickinson
A great hope fell
You heard no noise
The ruin was within.Emily Dickinson
I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.Emily Dickinson
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.Emily Dickinson
They might not need me; but they might.
I’ll let my head be just in sight;
A smile as small as mine might be
Precisely their necessity.Emily Dickinson
Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.Emily Dickinson
That I shall love always,
I argue thee
that love is life,
and life hath immortalityEmily Dickinson
An ear can break a human heart
As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
So dangerously near.Emily Dickinson
But a Book is only the Heart’s Portrait- every Page a Pulse.Emily Dickinson
We outgrow love like other things and put it in a drawer, till it an antique fashion shows like costumes grandsires wore.Emily Dickinson
A wounded dear leaps the highestEmily Dickinson
Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.Emily Dickinson
How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,—you must have noticed them in the street,—how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?Emily Dickinson
Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.Emily Dickinson
Judge tenderly of me.Emily Dickinson
I tasted life.Emily Dickinson
Find ecstasy in life; the mere sense of living is joy enough.Emily Dickinson
Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes.Emily Dickinson
I must go in, the fog is rising.Emily Dickinson
My love for those I love — not many — not very many, but don’t I love them so?Emily Dickinson
Those who have not found the heaven below,
will fail of it above.Emily Dickinson
Tis not that dieing hurts us so- tis living- hurts us more.Emily Dickinson
Anger as soon as fed is dead-
‘Tis starving makes it fat.Emily Dickinson
My friends are my estate.Emily Dickinson
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.Emily Dickinson
The possible’s slow fuse is lit by the Imagination.Emily Dickinson
There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.Emily Dickinson
The sun just touched the morning;
The morning, happy thing,
Supposed that he had come to dwell,
And life would be all spring.Emily Dickinson
I can wade Grief —
Whole Pools of it —
I’m used to that —
But the least push of Joy
Breaks up my feet —
And I tip — drunken —
Let no Pebble — smile —
‘Twas the New Liquor —
That was all!Emily Dickinson
Dying is a wild night and a new road.Emily Dickinson
They say that God is everywhere and yet we always think of him as somewhat of a recluse.Emily Dickinson
That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.Emily Dickinson
To be alive──is Power.Emily Dickinson
The brain is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.Emily Dickinson
Faith is a fine invention
When gentlemen can see,
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency.Emily Dickinson
I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?Emily Dickinson
My best Acquaintances are those
With Whom I spoke no WordEmily Dickinson
People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles.Emily Dickinson
In this short life
that only lasts ah hour
how much-how little-is
within our power.Emily Dickinson
I cannot live with you,
It would be life,
And life is over there
Behind the shelfEmily Dickinson
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.Emily Dickinson
Your brain is wider than the skyEmily Dickinson
To hope means to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime.Emily Dickinson
Whenever a thing is done for the first time, it releases a little demon.Emily Dickinson
Luck is not chance, it’s toil; fortune’s expensive smile is earned.Emily Dickinson
I felt a Cleaving in my Mind—
As if my Brain had split—
I tried to match it—Seam by Seam—
But could not make it fit.Emily Dickinson
Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.Emily Dickinson
To shut your eyes is to travel.Emily Dickinson
They say that ‘home is where the heart is.’ I think it is where the house is, and the adjacent buildings.Emily Dickinson
I hope you love birds too. It is economical. It saves going to heaven.Emily Dickinson
The Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind.Emily Dickinson
Open me carefullyEmily Dickinson
Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.Emily Dickinson
A power of Butterfly must be —
The Aptitude to fly
Meadows of Majesty concedes
And easy Sweeps of Sky —Emily Dickinson
The Soul selects her own Society.Emily Dickinson
Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun — if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.Emily Dickinson
Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. Espousing the former is not defending the latter.Emily Dickinson
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!Emily Dickinson
Inebriate of Air — am I —
And Debauchee of Dew —
Reeling — thro endless summer days —
From Inns of Molten Blue —Emily Dickinson
The poet lights the light and fades away. But the light goes on and on.Emily Dickinson
A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.Emily Dickinson
There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away…Emily Dickinson
Art is a house that tries to be haunted.Emily Dickinson
Celebrity is the chastisement of merit and the punishment of talent.Emily Dickinson
One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted —
One need not be a House —
The Brain has Corridors — surpassing
Material Place —Emily Dickinson
You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.Emily Dickinson
I hope your rambles have been sweet, and your reveries spaciousEmily Dickinson
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A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.
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A word is dead when it is said
Some say –
I say it just begins to live
That day.
F278
(1862) 1212
There are some fascinating and profound depths to this short poem (which
was penned as most of a letter to Dickinson’s cousin). An unspoken word is alive with
possibility. Meditate upon almost any word and its richness of suggestiveness, connotations
and denotations will flower and multiply. There are almost endless
possibilities of meaning. The word seems to have a life of its own.
But
“Some say” that once the word is spoken this life (in a given situation) is
over: the word is “dead” and lies inert where it has been rendered, having
coughed up its meaning. Like a pinned butterfly it can be observed and
described or categorized but it will no longer fly. This reminds me of (what
little I know of) quantum mechanics where in the collapse of the probability
wave several different possibilities are reduced to one possibility as seen by
an observer.
Dickinson,
however, takes the poet’s view: a word pulled from its shadow world of
limitless possibilities is only truly alive when it is birthed by articulation.
It needs the light of day to breathe. What makes it breathe and live? The very
ambiguity at the heart of language and communication. Playwright George Bernard
Shaw once said something to the effect of “The main problem with communication
is the perception that it has occurred.” Sometimes we replay and replay in our
minds what someone has written or said to us. The words have a life far beyond
what the speaker or writer had in mind. And how often do we try to explain
ourselves to someone who interpreted what we said in a way contrary to what we
meant? Or take, for example, the word “love.” As a dictionary word its meaning
is fairly clear. But when someone says it to us it comes to life and resonates
with real feeling and real consequence.
There
is a similar life-giving process for words in literature: stories, poems, plays
and movies. The same words spoken by one actor in one director’s vision will
mean something entirely different in another movie. One version might be
heroic, another ironic, another manipulative.
Dickinson
herself once asked a writer and mentor if her verse were “alive.” I think she
wanted this richness and diversity in interpretation. She did not want to be a
poet whose words were dead on arrival: flatly literal or spouting airy
generalities. The entire reason I’m going through each of her poems on this
blog is because she succeeded in making not only her poems live but the phrases
and even many of the very words. As an example, I just selected, with very little searching, the phrase “miles of stare.” This is what the poem says remains after Heaven, like a
circus, packs up its silken tents and disappears. The “stare” lives in our
startled response to this poem, enlivening both our understanding of the word and our understanding of what absence is. There is a mystery at its heart and so it continues to live.
Другие цитаты по теме
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
- Эмили Дикинсон
«Прости нас!» — молим мы
Того — кто нам невидим.
За что? Он знает — говорят —
Но нам наш грех неведом.
В магической тюрьме —
Всю жизнь на свет не выйдем! —
Мы счастье дерзкое браним —
Соперничает с Небом.
- Эмили Дикинсон
We never know we go when we are going:
We jest and shut the Door,
Fate — following — behind us bolts it —
And we accost no more.
- грустные цитаты
- Эмили Дикинсон
Of Pictures, the Discloser —
The Poet — it is He —
Entitles Us — by Contrast —
To ceaseless Poverty
Of Portion — so unconscious —
The Robbing — could not harm?
Himself — to Him — a Fortune —
Exterior — to Time.
- Эмили Дикинсон
Такой — крошечный — крошечный Челнок
В тихой заводи семенил.
Такой — вкрадчивый — вкрадчивый Океан
Посулом его заманил.
Такой — жадный — жадный Бурун
Сглотнул его целиком —
И не заметил царственный флот —
Челнок мой на дне морском.
- обещания
- человек, люди
- Эмили Дикинсон
I envy Seas, whereon He rides —
I envy Spokes of Wheels
Of Chariots, that Him convey —
I envy Crooked Hills.
That gaze upon his journey —
How easy all can see.
What is forbidden utterly
As Heaven — unto me!
- Эмили Дикинсон