Ральф Эмерсон – The Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson / Стихотворения (страница 54)
Was not altogether still,
But a quiet sense conveyed:
If I err not, thus it said: —
‘Many feet in summer seek,
Oft, my far-appearing peak;
In the dreaded winter time,
None save dappling shadows climb,
Under clouds, my lonely head,
Old as the sun, old almost as the shade;
And comest thou
To see strange forests and new snow,
And tread uplifted land?
And leavest thou thy lowland race,
Here amid clouds to stand?
And wouldst be my companion
Where I gaze, and still shall gaze,
Through tempering nights and flashing days,
When forests fall, and man is gone,
Over tribes and over times,
At the burning Lyre,
Nearing me,
With its stars of northern fire,
In many a thousand years?
Gentle pilgrim, if thou know
The gamut old of Pan,
And how the hills began,
The frank blessings of the hill
Fall on thee, as fall they will.
‘Let him heed who can and will;
Enchantment fixed me here
To stand the hurts of time, until
In mightier chant I disappear.
If thou trowest
How the chemic eddies play,
Pole to pole, and what they say;
And that these gray crags
Not on crags are hung,
But beads are of a rosary
On prayer and music strung;
And, credulous, through the granite seeming,
Seest the smile of Reason beaming; —
Can thy style-discerning eye
The hidden-working Builder spy,
Who builds, yet makes no chips, no din,
With hammer soft as snowflake’s flight; —
Knowest thou this?
O pilgrim, wandering not amiss!
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Башня-холм, сдаётся мне,
Всё ж безмолвна не вполне,
Тихих чувств поток несёт;
Разобрал такое вот:
«Летом много жду гостей
На вершине на своей,
А жестокою зимой
Вверх лишь те́ней лезет рой,
Одинок средь туч мой пик,
Он, как свет и тень, старик;
Тут ты ко мне —
Свеж снег, чужд лес – и к вышине
Торишь тропу средь круч?
В низинах брошена родня,
Чтоб здесь ты встал средь туч?
И хочешь ты побыть со мной,
Где взор бросаю, не ценя, 
