Ральф Эмерсон – The Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson / Стихотворения (страница 14)
Ключа им не найти,
И впредь нам утешенье:
Нам с ними по пути48.
Всё давит, давит тайна,
Всё ниже тучи здесь,
+
The crimson morning flames into
The fopperies of the town.
Within, without the idle earth,
Stars weave eternal rings;
The sun himself shines heartily,
And shares the joy he brings.
And what if Trade sow cities,
Like shells along the shore
And thatch with towns the prairie broad
With railways ironed o’er? —
They are but sailing foam-bells
Along Thought’s causing stream,
And take their shape and sun-color
From him that sends the dream.
For Destiny never swerves
Nor yields to men the helm;
He shoots his thought, by hidden nerves,
Throughout the solid realm.
The patient Dæmon sits,
With roses and a shroud;
He has his way, and deals his gifts, —
But ours is not allowed.
He is no churl nor trifler,
And his viceroy is none, —
Love-without-weakness, —
Of Genius sire and son.
And his will is not thwarted;
The seeds of land and sea
Are the atoms of his body bright,
And his behest obey.
He serveth the servant,
The brave he loves amain;
He kills the cripple and the sick,
And straight begins again;
For gods delight in gods,
And thrust the weak aside;
To him who scorns their charities
Their arms fly open wide.
When the old world is sterile
And the ages are effete,
He will from wrecks and sediment
The fairer world complete.
He forbids to despair;
His cheeks mantle with mirth;
And the unimagined good of men
Is yeaning at the birth.
+
Багрец рассвета шлёт пламя
На городскую спесь.
Земля что есть, что нету,
Путь вечный звёзды вьют,
Лучи от солнца жарки,
Всем радость раздают.
Вдруг Дело сеет, словно
Ракушек рой своих,
Тьму городов средь прерий,
Связав железом их?
Летят они, как пена
Вдоль мыслетворных вод, 
