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Эдгар По – Ворон (страница 48)

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Из ада – прямо в небеса, о них твои мечты. Здесь – боль и стон, там Божий трон, сбываются мечты!»

Dream-Land[86]

By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright,         I have reached these lands but newly         From an ultimate dim Thule — From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,         Out of Space – out of Time. Bottomless vales and boundless floods, And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover For the dews that drip all over; Mountains toppling evermore Into seas without a shore; Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters – lone and dead, — Their still waters – still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily. By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead, — Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily, — By the mountains – near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, — By the grey woods, – by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp, — By the dismal tarns and pools         Where dwell the Ghouls, — By each spot the most unholy — In each nook most melancholy, — There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past — Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by — White-robed forms of friends long given, In agony, to the Earth – and Heaven. For the heart whose woes are legion ’Tis a peaceful, soothing region — For the spirit that walks in shadow ’Tis-oh, ’tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not – dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses. By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon[87], name NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule.

Страна Сна

Путем пустынным и глухим, Ордою демонов гоним Там, где тьма на небосклоне, Там, где Ночь на черном троне,         Я вернулся в край родной