Выходной монолог Сальери по английски

The first monologue Salieri
from Pushkin’s Small Tragedies

All people say:  no justice  on the Earth,
But nope justices and above it. For me
It sounds clearly as a simple scale.
I was the in-birth art amateur;
Still only a child, when the high organ
Resounded in our ancient chapel,
I listened and reveled so stealthily  — My tears
Streamed  unwittingly sweetly…

I repealed early otiose sporting.
I hated Sciences distant from the music.
I renounced them and surrendered
Only  music. Such difficult t’first step is
And the first way is boring. I overcame
Then early adversity. Metier
I put  as pedestal for t’art;
I transformed into artesian. My fingers
obediently insensibly ran. My ear
for music has been hone. Keeling all sounds,
I then dissected music like a corpse.
I studied harmony with algebra! And then
Already dared, sophisticated in the science,
I indulged self into the bliss of an invented dream.
I started to create; but secretly in silence,
Not daring yet to think about glory.
Often, confined myself into a silent cell
For two, three days, forgetting sleep and satiety,
Having delight and tears of inspiration,
I burned off my creation and looked insensibly 
As my idea and sounds, whom me gave birth,
Replace themselves  with light smoky flame.
What do I say? Even when  such an immortal  Gluck
Appeared and revealed new secrets to all us
(Profound, deep, enchanting arcanes)
Would  I abandoned everything I knew before,
What loved so much, what I believed so fervently,
And would not me cheerfully follow him
Resignedly like one who was deluded
And sent to the opposite side?
By strong and very tense constancy
I am finally in the art of boundless flair
Has reached lofty degree. And the Glory
gave me its smile. I was in hearts of people.
I found full consonance with all my creatures.
I was happy: I enjoyed myself such calmly
By own  work, success, and deserved glory; also
Frankly by the efforts and successes of truly friends,
My comrades in the marvelous crafting.
Not! Never I possessed a spiteful envy.
Oh, never, never!- even when Piccini
Did know how to captivate the ears of wild Parisians,
Even when I heard for the first time
Iphigenia opera’s the initial sad sounds.

Who will tell  that proud Salieri is
Someday an despicable envious
Snake, trampled by the people, champing
Sand and dry dust such impotently?

Nobody! .. And now - I myself could say -
I am now envious. I envy deep,
I am painfully jealous. - Oh, heaven!
Where is the righteousness, when a sacred gift,
When an immortal genius not as a reward
for fervent love, precision dedication
Labor, diligence, prayers sent -
But illumines  the head of a madman,
Idle reveler?.. Outch, Mozart, Mozart!

Read Mozart shows a sketch