По Эдгар Аллан
«Лирика»

No more - no more upon thy verdant slopes!

No _more_! alas, that magical sad sound

Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no

_more_

Thy memory no _more_! Accursed ground

Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,

О hyacinthine isle! О purple Zante!

"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"

(1836)

25. ЗАНТЕ

Прекрасный остров! Лучший из цветов

Тебе свое дал нежное названье.

Как много ослепительных часов

Ты будишь в глубине воспоминанья!

Как много снов, чей умер яркий свет,

Как много дум, надежд похороненных!

Видений той, которой больше нет,

Нет больше на твоих зеленых склонах!

Нет больше! скорбный звук, чье волшебство

Меняет все. За этой тишиною

Нет больше чар! Отныне предо мною

Ты проклят средь расцвета своего!

О, гиацинтный остров! Алый Занте!

"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"

(1901)

Перевод К. Бальмонта

26. THE HAUNTED PALACE

In the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted,

Once a fair and stately palace

Radiant palace - reared its head.

In the monarch Thought's dominion

It stood there!

Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow

(This - all this - was in the olden

Time long ago)

And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,

Through two luminous windows, saw

Spirits moving musically,

To a lute's well-tuned law,

Round about a throne where, sitting,

Porphyrogene,

In state his glory well befitting

The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door,

Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,

And sparkling evermore,

A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,

In voices of suprassing beauty,

The wit