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Оден Уистан Хью
«Стихи»

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зол, равнодушие меркнет, поверь,


Пред тем, чем страшит человек или зверь.


Что скажем мы звездам, дарующим пламя


Любви безответной, немыми устами?


Так если взаимной любви нет, то пусть


Быть любящим больше мне выпадет грусть.


Смешной воздыхатель, я знаю отлично,


Что если звезда так ко мне безразлична,


Я вряд ли скажу, что ловлю ее тень


И жутко скучаю за нею весь день.


А если случится всем звездам исчезнуть,


Привыкну я видеть пустующей бездну,


И тьмы торжество я учую душой,


Хоть это и требует срок небольшой.


Сентябрь 1957?


VOLTAIRE AT FERNEY


Perfectly happy now, he looked at his estate.


An exile making watches glanced up as he passed


And went on working; where a hospital was rising fast,


A joiner touched his cap; an agent came to tell


Some of the trees he'd planted were progressing well.


The white alps glittered. It was summer. He was very great.


Far off in Paris where his enemies


Whispered that he was wicked, in an upright chair


A blind old woman longed for death and letters. He would write,


"Nothing is better than life". But was it? Yes, the fight


Against the false and the unfair


Was always worth it. So was gardening. Civilize.


Cajoling, scolding, scheming, cleverest of them all,


He'd had the other children in a holy war


Against the unfamous grown-ups; and like a child, been sly


And humble, when there was occasion for


The two-faced answer or the plain protective lie,


But, patient like a peasant, waited for their fall.


And never doubted, like D'Alembert, he would win:


Only Pascal was a great enemy, the rest


Were rats already poisoned; there was much, though, to be done,


And only himself to count upon.


Dear Diderot was dull but did his best;


Rousseau, he'd always known, would blubber and give in.


Night

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