Ральф Эмерсон – The Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson / Стихотворения (страница 41)
Я глубока;
В верхушке будит песню
Взлёт ветерка.
Он пророчество принёс,
Пляс тене́й покрыл утёс,
Сотни игл моих стали вместо струн,
Мотив дал лесу бог-певун.
Слушай! Слушай!
Знай же, что напев чудной
Был пред юной спет Землёй.
Пеан94 – для шири, высоты;
Мудрец! Полпесни слышал ты?
Мудрец! Концовка не мутна?
Летопись искусств она.
Всякий мог услышать в ней
Про начало всех вещей95,
Про ход их сквозь года без счёту,
Пыль звёзд и звёздные полёты,
Про круговерть миров и лет,
Про ил потопа, гуще нет,
Про химию форм, сил и масс,
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Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm:
The rushing metamorphosis
Dissolving all that fixture is,
Melts things that be to things that seem,
And solid nature to a dream.
O, listen to the undersong,
The ever old, the ever young;
And, far within those cadent pauses,
The chorus of the ancient Causes!
Delights the dreadful Destiny
To fling his voice into the tree,
And shock thy weak ear with a note
Breathed from the everlasting throat.
In music he repeats the pang
Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang.
O mortal! thy ears are stones;
These echoes are laden with tones
Which only the pure can hear;
Thou canst not catch what they recite
Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right,
Of man to come, of human life,
Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.’
Once again the pine-tree sung: —
‘Speak not thy speech my boughs among:
Put off thy years, wash in the breeze;
My hours are peaceful centuries.
Talk no more with feeble tongue;
No more the fool of space and time,
Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme.
Only thy Americans
Can read thy line, can meet thy glance,
But the runes that I rehearse
Understands the universe;
The least breath my boughs which tossed
Brings again the Pentecost;
To every soul resounding clear
In a voice of solemn cheer, —
“Am I not thine? Are not these thine?”
And they reply, “Forever mine!”
My branches speak Italian,
English, German, Basque, Castilian,
Mountain speech to Highlanders,
Ocean tongues to islanders, 
