ДЖОН КИТС
МЭГ МЭРРИЛИЗ
Старуха Мэг-цыганка
В торфяниках жила,
Постелью был ей дёрн сухой,
А дверью - ночь была.
Лес ежевичных зарослей
Забором ей служил,
Читала вместо книг она
Все надписи с могил.
Холмы скалистые вокруг
Как братья были ей,
Жила она в большой семье
И всё любила в ней.
Не знала завтраков она,
Обедала во снах,
Взирала вместо ужина
На месяц в облаках.
Но, утром, жимолость сорвав,
Плела она венки.
И пела, ночью в лес уйдя,
Средь тисов вековых.
Кривыми пальцами плела
Циновки батракам,
И раздавала им в кустах,
Бродя по их стопам.
Как Королева Маргарет
Храбра она была,
Как амазонка юная
Отважна и смела.
Носила красный плащ она,
Соломенный чепец.
Так упокой её, Господь, -
Пришёл и ей конец!
17.03.2012
20-15
MEG MERRILIES
Old Meg she was a gipsy,
And lived upon the moors,
Her bed it was the brown heath turf,
And her house was out of doors.
Her apples were swart blackberries,
Herr currants pods o'broom,
Her wine was dew o'the wild white rose,
Her book a churchyard tomb.
Her brothers were the craggy hills,
Her sisters larchen trees -
Alone with her great family
She lived as she did please.
No breakfast had she many a morn,
No dinner many a noon,
And 'sted of supper she would stare
Full hard against the moon.
But every morn of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding,
And every night the dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers old and brown
She plaited mats o'rushes,
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes.
Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen
And tall as Amazon,
An old red blantet cloak she wore,
A chip-hat had she on.
God rest her aged bones somewhere -
She died full long agone!