#поэтическая_среда
Поэма "The Little Black Boy" была опубликована Вильямом Блейком в 1789 году, когда рабство еще было легальным, а кампания по освобождению черного населения только начиналась. Публикую два перевода: лучший, по моему скромному мнению, - В. Л. Топорова, и классический - С.Ю.Маршака
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointing to the east, began to say:
'Look on the rising sun,-there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away;
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
'And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and the sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish; we shall hear His voice,
Saying: "Come out from the grove, My love and care,
And round My golden tent like lambs rejoice."'
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
1789
William Blake
P.s. В этом произведении полно метафор и критики считают, что сравнивая Бога с солнцем и описывая черную кожу, как "опаленную солнцем" ("black bodies and the sunburnt face"), Блейк хотел подчеркнуть, что черные люди ближе к Богу из-за тех страданий и лишений, которые им пришлось вынести.
НЕГРИТЕНОК
Там, где рожден я, - солнце и песок,
И черен я, одна душа бела.
Английский мальчик - белый ангелок,
А негритянский - черная смола.
Мать прятала меня в тени дерев
От зноя, наступающего днем,
И, к небу руку черную воздев,
С любовью говорила мне о нем:
- На небе солнце, а на солнце Бог,
Он дарит свет, он дарит свет и тень,
Чтоб каждый человек, зверек, листок
Хвалил рассвет и славил ясный день.
Лучи любви небесной горячи,
И жар любви мы вытерпеть должны;
Сгорели б мы, Господь не облачи
Нас в черные сплошные пелены.
Душа не знает этой черноты
И белоснежной выйдет из пелен,
Когда раздастся Голос с высоты
И призовет ягнят на небосклон.
Так мать мне говорила в той стране,
Так, белый мальчик, я скажу тебе:
- Ты в белой, сам я - в черной пелене,
Но нас, ягнят, зовет Господь к себе;
Я помогу тебе снести жару
На солнечной дороге в небеса,
И выйдем, братья, к божьему шатру,
И я твои поглажу волоса.
Перевод В. Л. Топорова
ЧЕРНЫЙ МАЛЬЧИК
Мне жизнь в пустыне мать моя дала,
И черен я - одна душа бела.
Английский мальчик светел, словно день,
А я черней, чем темной ночи тень.
Учила, мать под деревом меня
И, прерывая ласками урок,
В сиянье раннем пламенного дня
Мне говорила, глядя на восток.
- Взгляни на Солнце, - там господь живет,
Он озаряет мир своим огнем.
Траве, зверям и людям он дает
Блаженство утром и отраду днем.
Мы посланы сюда, чтоб глаз привык
К лучам любви, к сиянию небес.
И это тельце, этот черный лик -
Ведь только тучка иль тенистый лес.
Когда глазам не страшен будет день,
Растает тучка. Скажет он: "Пора!
Покиньте, дети, лиственную сень,
Резвитесь здесь, у моего шатра!"
Так говорила часто мать моя.
Английский мальчик, слушай: если ты
Из белой тучки выпорхнешь, а я
Освобожусь от этой черноты, -
Я заслоню тебя от зноя дня
И буду гладить золотую прядь,
Когда, головку светлую клоня,
В тени шатра ты будешь отдыхать.
Перевод С.Ю.Маршака
P.s. Особая благодарность Kir Underdinner
Поэма "The Little Black Boy" была опубликована Вильямом Блейком в 1789 году, когда рабство еще было легальным, а кампания по освобождению черного населения только начиналась. Публикую два перевода: лучший, по моему скромному мнению, - В. Л. Топорова, и классический - С.Ю.Маршака
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointing to the east, began to say:
'Look on the rising sun,-there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away;
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
'And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and the sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish; we shall hear His voice,
Saying: "Come out from the grove, My love and care,
And round My golden tent like lambs rejoice."'
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
1789
William Blake
P.s. В этом произведении полно метафор и критики считают, что сравнивая Бога с солнцем и описывая черную кожу, как "опаленную солнцем" ("black bodies and the sunburnt face"), Блейк хотел подчеркнуть, что черные люди ближе к Богу из-за тех страданий и лишений, которые им пришлось вынести.
НЕГРИТЕНОК
Там, где рожден я, - солнце и песок,
И черен я, одна душа бела.
Английский мальчик - белый ангелок,
А негритянский - черная смола.
Мать прятала меня в тени дерев
От зноя, наступающего днем,
И, к небу руку черную воздев,
С любовью говорила мне о нем:
- На небе солнце, а на солнце Бог,
Он дарит свет, он дарит свет и тень,
Чтоб каждый человек, зверек, листок
Хвалил рассвет и славил ясный день.
Лучи любви небесной горячи,
И жар любви мы вытерпеть должны;
Сгорели б мы, Господь не облачи
Нас в черные сплошные пелены.
Душа не знает этой черноты
И белоснежной выйдет из пелен,
Когда раздастся Голос с высоты
И призовет ягнят на небосклон.
Так мать мне говорила в той стране,
Так, белый мальчик, я скажу тебе:
- Ты в белой, сам я - в черной пелене,
Но нас, ягнят, зовет Господь к себе;
Я помогу тебе снести жару
На солнечной дороге в небеса,
И выйдем, братья, к божьему шатру,
И я твои поглажу волоса.
Перевод В. Л. Топорова
ЧЕРНЫЙ МАЛЬЧИК
Мне жизнь в пустыне мать моя дала,
И черен я - одна душа бела.
Английский мальчик светел, словно день,
А я черней, чем темной ночи тень.
Учила, мать под деревом меня
И, прерывая ласками урок,
В сиянье раннем пламенного дня
Мне говорила, глядя на восток.
- Взгляни на Солнце, - там господь живет,
Он озаряет мир своим огнем.
Траве, зверям и людям он дает
Блаженство утром и отраду днем.
Мы посланы сюда, чтоб глаз привык
К лучам любви, к сиянию небес.
И это тельце, этот черный лик -
Ведь только тучка иль тенистый лес.
Когда глазам не страшен будет день,
Растает тучка. Скажет он: "Пора!
Покиньте, дети, лиственную сень,
Резвитесь здесь, у моего шатра!"
Так говорила часто мать моя.
Английский мальчик, слушай: если ты
Из белой тучки выпорхнешь, а я
Освобожусь от этой черноты, -
Я заслоню тебя от зноя дня
И буду гладить золотую прядь,
Когда, головку светлую клоня,
В тени шатра ты будешь отдыхать.
Перевод С.Ю.Маршака
P.s. Особая благодарность Kir Underdinner
# poetic environment
The poem "The Little Black Boy" was published by William Blake in 1789, when slavery was still legal, and the campaign to free the black population was just beginning. I publish two translations: the best, in my humble opinion, - V. L. Toporova, and the classic - S.Yu. Marshak
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointing to the east, began to say:
'Look on the rising sun, -there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away;
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
'And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and the sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish; we shall hear His voice,
Saying: "Come out from the grove, My love and care,
And round My golden tent like lambs rejoice. "'
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
1789
William blake
P.s. This work is full of metaphors and critics who believe that comparing God with the sun and describing black skin as “black bodies and the sunburnt face”, Blake wanted to emphasize that black people are closer to God because of the suffering and the privations they had to endure.
UNLIMITED
Where I was born, sun and sand
And I'm black, one soul is white.
English boy - white angel,
And the Negro is black tar.
Mother hid me in the shade of the trees
From the heat coming in the afternoon
And raising a black hand to heaven,
Lovingly told me about him:
- The sun is in heaven, and God is in the sun,
He gives light, he gives light and shadow,
So that every person, animal, leaf
Praised the dawn and glorified a clear day.
The rays of heavenly love are hot
And we must endure the heat of love;
If we burned, Lord do not clothe
Us in black continuous veils.
The soul does not know this blackness
And the snow-white will come out of the veil,
When the Voice comes from above
And he will call the lambs to the horizon.
So mother told me in that country
So white boy, I will tell you:
- You are in white, I myself am in a black veil,
But us lambs, the Lord is calling to himself;
I will help you blow the heat
On a sunny road to heaven
And we go out, brothers, to the tent of God,
And I will stroke your hair.
Translation by V. L. Toporov
BLACK BOY
My mother gave me life in the desert
And I am black - one soul is white.
The English boy is bright as day
And I'm blacker than a dark night shadow.
Mother taught me under a tree
And interrupting the caresses of the lesson,
In the shine of an early fiery day
She spoke to me, looking east.
- Take a look at the Sun, - the Lord lives there,
He illuminates the world with his fire.
He gives grass, beasts and people
Bliss in the morning and joy in the afternoon.
We are sent here so that the eye gets used
To the rays of love, to the radiance of heaven.
And this little body, this black face -
After all, only a cloud or a shady forest.
When the day is not afraid of the eyes,
A cloud is melting. He will say: "It's time!
Leave, children, deciduous canopy,
Frolic here by my tent! "
My mother often said so.
English boy, listen: if you
You’ll fly out of a white cloud, and I
I will free myself from this blackness, -
I will shield you from the heat of the day
And I will stroke the golden strand
When, tending to the light head,
In the shadow of the tent you will rest.
Translation by S.Yu. Marshak
P.s. Special Thanks to Kir Underdinner
The poem "The Little Black Boy" was published by William Blake in 1789, when slavery was still legal, and the campaign to free the black population was just beginning. I publish two translations: the best, in my humble opinion, - V. L. Toporova, and the classic - S.Yu. Marshak
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree,
And, sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And, pointing to the east, began to say:
'Look on the rising sun, -there God does live,
And gives His light, and gives His heat away;
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.
'And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love;
And these black bodies and the sunburnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.
'For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear,
The cloud will vanish; we shall hear His voice,
Saying: "Come out from the grove, My love and care,
And round My golden tent like lambs rejoice. "'
Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
And thus I say to little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,
I'll shade him from the heat, till he can bear
To lean in joy upon our Father's knee;
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him, and he will then love me.
1789
William blake
P.s. This work is full of metaphors and critics who believe that comparing God with the sun and describing black skin as “black bodies and the sunburnt face”, Blake wanted to emphasize that black people are closer to God because of the suffering and the privations they had to endure.
UNLIMITED
Where I was born, sun and sand
And I'm black, one soul is white.
English boy - white angel,
And the Negro is black tar.
Mother hid me in the shade of the trees
From the heat coming in the afternoon
And raising a black hand to heaven,
Lovingly told me about him:
- The sun is in heaven, and God is in the sun,
He gives light, he gives light and shadow,
So that every person, animal, leaf
Praised the dawn and glorified a clear day.
The rays of heavenly love are hot
And we must endure the heat of love;
If we burned, Lord do not clothe
Us in black continuous veils.
The soul does not know this blackness
And the snow-white will come out of the veil,
When the Voice comes from above
And he will call the lambs to the horizon.
So mother told me in that country
So white boy, I will tell you:
- You are in white, I myself am in a black veil,
But us lambs, the Lord is calling to himself;
I will help you blow the heat
On a sunny road to heaven
And we go out, brothers, to the tent of God,
And I will stroke your hair.
Translation by V. L. Toporov
BLACK BOY
My mother gave me life in the desert
And I am black - one soul is white.
The English boy is bright as day
And I'm blacker than a dark night shadow.
Mother taught me under a tree
And interrupting the caresses of the lesson,
In the shine of an early fiery day
She spoke to me, looking east.
- Take a look at the Sun, - the Lord lives there,
He illuminates the world with his fire.
He gives grass, beasts and people
Bliss in the morning and joy in the afternoon.
We are sent here so that the eye gets used
To the rays of love, to the radiance of heaven.
And this little body, this black face -
After all, only a cloud or a shady forest.
When the day is not afraid of the eyes,
A cloud is melting. He will say: "It's time!
Leave, children, deciduous canopy,
Frolic here by my tent! "
My mother often said so.
English boy, listen: if you
You’ll fly out of a white cloud, and I
I will free myself from this blackness, -
I will shield you from the heat of the day
And I will stroke the golden strand
When, tending to the light head,
In the shadow of the tent you will rest.
Translation by S.Yu. Marshak
P.s. Special Thanks to Kir Underdinner
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