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Йейтс Уильям Батлер
«Стихи. (В переводах разных авторов)»

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My dreams were cloven by voices and by fires;


And the images I have woven in this story


Of Forgael and Dectora and the empty waters


Moved round me in the voices and the fires,


And more I may not write of, for they that cleave


The waters of sleep can make a chattering tongue


Heavy like stone, their wisdom being half silence.


How shall I name you, immortal, mild, proud shadows?


I only know that all we know comes from you,


And that you come from Eden on flying feet.


Is Eden far away, or do you hide


From human thought, as hares and mice and coneys


That run before the reaping-hook and lie


In the last ridge of the barley? Do our woods


And winds and ponds cover more quiet woods,


More shining winds, more star glimmering ponds?


Is Eden out of time and out of space?


And do you gather about us when pale light


Shining on water and fallen among leaves,


And winds blowing from flowers, and whirr of feathers


And the green quiet, have uplifted the heart?


I have made this poem for you, that men may read it


Before they read of Forgael and Dectora,


As men in the old times, before the harps began,


Poured out wine for the high invisible ones.
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