A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений
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Название: A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений
Автор: Визи Мария Генриховна
Дата добавления: 16 январь 2020
Количество просмотров: 356
A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений читать книгу онлайн
A moongate in my wall: собрание стихотворений - читать бесплатно онлайн , автор Визи Мария Генриховна
Мария Визи (1904-1994) – поэтесса «первой волны» русской эмиграции. Данное собрание стихотворений, изданное в США, под редакцией Ольги Бакич, наиболее полное на данный момент собрание ее поэтических произведений и переводов.
Издание состоит из 4 частей и включает в себя:
1. Три опубликованных сборника М. Визи: 1929, 1936 и 1973 гг.
2. Стихотворения, не вошедшие в сборники, написанные на русском языке.
3. Стихотворения, не вошедшие в сборники, написанные на английском языке.
4. Неопубликованные переводы
Вступительная статья и комментарии на английском языке.
Внимание! Книга может содержать контент только для совершеннолетних. Для несовершеннолетних чтение данного контента СТРОГО ЗАПРЕЩЕНО! Если в книге присутствует наличие пропаганды ЛГБТ и другого, запрещенного контента - просьба написать на почту [email protected] для удаления материала
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1923 г.
502. «Alone, when once so many were around…»
Alone, when once so many were around,
Who loved me so, and left me now alone!
And now, though once my sleep had been so sound,
I dream all night of faces I have known.
I talk to them of all I saw and learned,
I tell them all I have been thinking of;
I take such pride in praises I have earned,
i take such joy to see again their love!
But w hen the snow is melting on the range
Beneath the heated rays of coining day
Each morning brings too soon the loathsome change
And makes my lonely vision fade away.
Claremont, 12 Oct. [1924]
503. Masterpieces
Snow clouds came to rest on Baldy mountain,
When the sun had hidden in his den,
— After lights were low and voices quiet
In the valley cottages of men.
With a treasure they were heavy laden,
With the crystal blessings of the fr ost —
Such of which Old Baldy had been dreaming.
Which it loved and months ago had lost.
Only pictures of a Perfect Artist…
Wakened by the morning's early gleam,
Baldy stood majestically crowned,
— And the clouds were floating down their stream
What though passing clouds sent down their shadows?
Baldy's smile was deeper than before
For the soothing, purifying freshness
Which the falling snow had held in store.
Claremont, 17 Nov. [1924]
504. «The world is but a dancing hall…»
The world is but a dancing hall,
Where all the people dance; and all
Can foxtrot, but a mighty few
Can waltz, — and one of them is you.
17 Feb. [1925]
505. ««Expectantly?» Suppose, you little fool…»
П. No. 2
«Expectantly?» Suppose, you little fool,
A hunchback (but there are none in the school)…
Suppose a wench of some four feet and two
Would, since you ask, decide to visit you …
Or some gaunt giantess above six feet,
Such as the people laugh at when they meet…
Suppose she is bow-legged, and her hair,
Like that of ancient Furies, stands in air?
And let her face be harsh as mortal sin,
Belying any sparkle from within.
She winks an eye, distorts a ghastly cheek,
And then you hear, instead of voice, — a squeak!
Will you at that be able to disguise
The true interpretation of your eyes?
And generously willing to forget
The shock that you from such a sight would get?
But after all, you may be far amiss
And I may be Mister, not a Miss.
I really always hate to disappoint,
But «dazzling, flashing» are beside the point.
«Expectantly»… — You know not what you say!
Yet you may hear from me another day.
15 May [1926]
506. «…This funny game — this life — is full of things…»
П. (Отрывок)
…This funny game — this life — is full of things
We guess not of. A mocking bird that sings
At dawn, in June, above your windowsill,
Charming your waking fancies with its trill —
Will fly away, and you will never see
Why it had landed on the neighbor tree.
Better to keep things hidden than unmasked,
Lest answers startle, if the truth be asked;
Kinder to let the goldfish float below,
Than, having caught it, watch its life-light go;
Safer to leave the morning star unfound,
Than, having held it, shatter on the ground…
— Leave, and be gone along the open trail,
Don't watch the sun until its glories pale.
So I will wander on, and so will you,
Our feet still wet with early morning dew,
A endless day still glimmering ahead—
That speaks of warmth and often burrs instead.
… We both are humans. That's where really lies
My sympathy for you; and though our eyes
Have never met, we many times have seen
The other's eyes, not knowing what they mean.
Another life, passed by along the way,
Forgotten in a week, yet near today.
Let us be merry; though the blissful hours
May be but few in this here life of ours.
Let us be happy; though the fairy wand
Touches but seldom each unfailing hand…
31 May [1926]
507. Parting
The cold waves, and the light underneath the waves,
— Is anything grayer — is anyone's welcome colder?
Yet dimmer and dimmer grows
The shadow of love's graves,
And barely my conscience saves
The parting touch of your shoulder.
In the ocean I seek repose.
Not even grief can mar
The beauty — when waters close
To silence love's echo.
And you are forgotten and far.
24 Sept. 1926
508. «They took me to the door and showed…»
They took me to the door and showed
A narrow and a winding road,
Leading to wondrous things, that may
Be mine, if I but go that way.
I went, for I had naught to lose,
And saw no other road to choose.
And much the Powers freely gave
That I was fool enough to crave.
Beauty and Love and Youth I had,
And many friends who made me glad
That Higher Powers long ago
Had shown me just that way to go.
Yet often, oh, how often now
I want — if they but told me how —
To find that first wide-open door
And beg for just a little more.
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