Дональд Джастис. Стихотворенье не тебе...

Poem

This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.

Even while you sit there, unmovable,
You have begun to vanish. And it does not matter.
The poem will go on without you.
It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

It is not sad, really, only empty.
Once perhaps it was sad, no one knows why.
It prefers to remember nothing.
Nostalgias were peeled from it long ago.

Your type of beauty has no place here.
Night is the sky over this poem.
It is too black for stars.
And do not look for any illumination.

You neither can nor should understand what it means.
Listen, it comes with out guitar,
Neither in rags nor any purple fashion.
And there is nothing in it to comfort you.

Close your eyes, yawn. It will be over soon.
You will forge the poem, but not before
It has forgotten you. And it does not matter.
It has been most beautiful in its erasures.

O bleached mirrors! Oceans of the drowned!
Nor is one silence equal to another.
And it does not matter what you think.
This poem is not addressed to you.
 
Donald Justice


Стихотворенье не тебе.
Ты вдруг в него– на время,
и потеряешься, зане
до рифмы перемена

тебя в незримку превратит.
Ему особо длиться–
подложным цветом процвести
на видимой границе.

Стихотворенья грусть была,
затем (зачем?) сплыла, и
слиняла память добела–
не добрая, ни злая.

Беззвездна ночь его без дня.
Красоты неуместны
твои. Потщись его понять,
приняв как твердь и бездну.

Сомкни глаза, зевни– оно
тебя забудет, прежде
сфальшивишь: третье не дано,
да чудо– отзвук в реш'те.

Внемли и всё– гляди придёт
само, да не утешит,
погоды, времени и мод
вне по, ни против шерсти.

О сколько тихих дум и вед
таит не дарит нива
стихотворенья не тебе,
что вне оценок живо!

перевод с английского Терджимана Кырымлы