Эдвард Лир - Чистый nonsense (сборник)

Так они и задружились —
Пили, ели, спать ложились
Неразлейные дружки;
Пел Сверчок не умолкая,
Вкусу дяди потакая,
Арли нравилась такая
Жизнь (хоть жали башмаки).

Сорок три зимы и лета
Он бродил по белу свету,
Башмаки стирая в прах;
И пришёл – то напевая,
То молча, то завывая —
На порог родного края
(В жутко жмущих башмаках).

Ночью на копне ячменной
Умер Арли незабвенный,
Погребён в тени ольхи;
С ним Сверчок его надёжный,
Шляпа, железнодорожный
Тот билет пустопорожний
(Жали жутко башмаки).

But Ah! (The landscape painter said.)
A brutal fly walks on my head
And my bald skin doth tickle;
And so I stop distracted quite,
(With itching skin for who can write?)
In most disgusting pickle.

Ах! (Пейзажист зашёлся аж).
Ползёт по голове букаш,
И плешь свербмя свербит;
Терпеть не в силах адский зуд,
Бросаю кисть (попишешь тут?),
Унижен и убит.

It is a virtue in ingenuous youth,
To leave off lying and return to truth,
For well it’s known that all religious morals
Are caused by Bass’s Ale and South Atlantic Corals.

Ведёшь себя достойно, молодёжь,
Когда не лжёшь, но к истине идёшь,
Всяк знает: суть религий и морали
Вся в Пиве Басс и в Атлантическом Коралле.

When “Grand old men” persist in folly
In slaughtering men and chopping trees,
What art can soothe the melancholy
Of those whom futile “statesmen” teaze?

The only way their wrath to cover
To let mankind know who’s to blame-o —
Is first to rush by train to Dover
And then straight onward to Sanremo.

Когда старьё по глупой воле
На молодых срывает зуд,
Излечит что от меланхолии
Того, кого они грызут?

Есть способ гнев, излитый сдуру,
Смягчить, коль воспринять смиренно —
На поезде умчаться к Дувру,
А там уж прямиком – в Сан-Ремо.

Saith the Poet of Nonsense
“Thoughts into my head do come
Thick as flies upon a plum.”

Молвит Нонсенса Поэт:
«Мысли у меня в уме
Кишат, как мухи на хурме».

And this is certain; if so be
You could just now my garden see,
The aspic of my flowers so bright
Would make you shudder with delight.

And if you voz to see my roziz
As is a boon to all men’s noziz, —
You’d fall upon your back and scream —
‘O Lawk! O criky! It’s a dream!’

И это правда; коли так,
Тебе не миновать никак
Мой сад, который бы исторг
Дрожь восхищенья и восторг.

Увидя сад, где ярки розы
Мужчинские пленяют носы,
Ты, навзничь пав, издал бы стон:
«Мой Бог! Неужто! Это сон!»

Our mother was the Pussy-Сat, our father was the Owl,
And so we’re partly little beasts and partly little fowl.
The brothers of our family have feathers and they hoot,
While all the sisters dress in fur and have long tails to boot.
We all believe that little mice
For food are singularly nice.
Our mother died long years ago. She was a lovely Сat.
Her tail was 5 feet long, and grey with stripes, but what of that?
In Sila forest on the East of fair Calabria’s shore
She tumbled from a lofty tree – none ever saw her more.
Our owly father long was ill from sorrow and surprise,
But with the feathers of his tail he wiped his weeping eyes.
And in the hollow of a tree in Sila’s inmost maze
We made a happy home and there we pass our obvious days.

From Reggian Cosenza many owls about us flit
And bring us worldly news for which we do not care a bit.
We watch the sun each morning rise, beyond Tarento’s strait;
We go out – – – – – before it gets too late;
And when the evening shades begin to lengthen from the trees
– – – – – as sure as bees is bees.
We wander up and down the shore – – – – —
Or tumble over head and heels, but never, never more
Can see the far Gromboolian plains – – – – – —
Or weep as we could once have wept o’er many a vanished scene:
This is the way our father moans – he is so very green.

Our father still preserves his voice, and when he sees a star
He often sings – – – to that original guitar.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – —
– – – – – – – – – – – – – —
The pot in which our parents took the honey in their boat,
But all the money has been spent, beside the ₤5 note.
The owls who come and bring us news are often – —
Because we take no interest in poltix of the day.

Нам Киска мама, славный Сов – наш папа дорогой,
От части мы пернатые, пушные – от другой.
Все братья в перьях папиных и ухают баском,
А сёстры в шубках сереньких и с маминым хвостом.
Мы все на том стоим всегда,
Что мыши – лучшая еда.
Она была прелестное кошачье существо:
Роскошный полосатый хвост, да только что с того?
В Калабрии, в лесу глухом, где скуден солнца свет,
С высокой ветки сорвалась – и мамы больше нет.
Внезапным горем папа был сражён и поражён,
Но опереньем хвостовым отёр слезинки он.
Большое дерево нашли, дупло во древе том,
В лесной чащобе, – наш приют и милый сердцу дом.

Над нами совы стаями снуют туда-сюда,
Мирские вести принося, не стоит и труда.
Залив Таренто видим мы и солнечный восход;
Выходим утром – – – скорей, чем тьма падёт;
Когда под вечер тень дерев становится длинней,
– – – – – как пчёлы – пчёлы, ей-же-ей.
По берегу блуждаем мы – – – – —
Иль кувыркаемся, резвясь, но больше никогда
Равнин Громбульяна не зреть далёких – – —
Иль плачем, сценой скорбною разбередив сердца,
Припомнив те страдания, рыдания отца.

Свой голос папа сохранил, сберёг гитару он
И с появлением звезды поёт под струнный звон.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – —
– – – – – – – – – – – – – —
Горшочек тот, в котором мёд родители везли,
Но деньги все потратили, 5 фунтов лишь спасли.
Нередко совы-вестники – – – – – —
Ведь нас ничуть не трогает смешная злоба дня.

The Scroobious Pip went out one day
When the grass was green, and the sky was grey.
Then all the beasts in the world came round
When the Scroobious Pip sat down on the ground.
The cat and the dog and the kangaroo
The sheep and the cow and the guineapig too —
The wolf he howled, the horse he neighed
The little pig squeaked and the donkey brayed,
And when the lion began to roar
There never was heard such a noise before.
And every beast he stood on the tip
Of his toes to look at the Scroobious Pip.
At last they said to the Fox – “By far,
You’re the wisest beast! You know you are!
Go close to Scroobious Pip and say,
Tell us all about yourself we pray —
For as yet we can’t make out in the least
If you’re Fish or Insect, or Bird or Beast.”
The Scroobious Pip looked vaguelyy round
And sang these words with a rumbling sound —
Chippetty Flip; Flippetty Chip; —
My only name is the Scroobious Pip.

The Scroobious Pip from the top of a tree
Saw the distant Jellybolee, —
And all the birds in the world came there,
Flying in crowds all through the air.
The Vulture and Eagle, the cock and the hen
The Ostrich the Turkey the Snipe and the Wren;
The Parrot chattered, the Blackbird sung
And the owl looked wise but held his tongue,
And when the Peacock began to scream
The hullabaloo was quite extreme.
And every bird he fluttered the tip
Of his wng as he stared at the Scroobious Pip.
At last they said to the owl – “By far,
You’re the wisest Bird – you know you are!
Fly close to the Scroobious Pip and say,
Explain all about yourself we paray —
For as yet we have neither seen nor heard
If you’re fish or insect, beast or bird!”
The Scroobious Pip looked gaily round
And sang these words with a chirpy sound —
Chippetty Flip; Flippetty Chip; —
My only name is the Scroobious Pip.

The Scroobious Pip went into the sea
By the beautiful shore of Jellybolee —
All the fish in the world swam round
With a splashing squashy spluttering sound.
The sprat, the herring, the turbot too
The shark, the sole and the mackerel blue,
The flounder spluttered, the purpoise puffed
………………………………………………………
And when the whale began to spout
………………………………………………………
And every fish he shook the tip
Of his tail as he gazed on the Scroobious Pip
At last they said to the whale – “By far
You’re the biggest Fish – you know you are!
Swim close to the Scroobious Pip and say —
Tell us all about yourself we pray! —
For to know you yourself is our only wish;
Are you beast or insect, bird or fish?”
The Scroobious Pip looked softly round
And sang these words with a liquid sound —
Pliffity Flip; Pliffety Flip; —
My only name is the Scroobious Pip.