Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky

(February 9 1783 – April 24 1852 / Mishenskoe, Tula Oblast)

The Bard


My friends, can you descry that mound of earth
Above clear waters in the shade of trees?
You can just hear the babbling spring against the bank;
You can just feel a breeze that's wafting in the leaves;
A wreath and lyre hang upon the boughs...
Alas, my friends! This mound's a grave;
Here earth conceals the ashes of a bard;
Poor bard!

A gentle soul, a simple heart
He was a sojourner in the world;
He'd barely bloomed, yet lost his taste for life
He craved his end with yearning and excitement;
And early on he met his end,
He found the grave's desired sleep.
Your time was but a moment - a moment sad
Poor bard!

He sang with tenderness of friendship to his friend, -
His loyal friend cut down in his life's bloom;
He sang of love - but in a doleful voice;
Alas! Of love he knew naught but its woe;
Now all has met with its demise,
Your soul partakes of peace eternal;
You slumber in your silent grave,
Poor bard!

Here, by this stream one eventide
He sang his doleful farewell song:
'O lovely world, where blossomed I in vain;
Farewell forever; with a soul deceived
For happiness I waited - but my dreams have died;
All's perished; lyre, be still;
To your serene abode, o haste,
Poor bard!

What's life, when charm is lacking?
To know of bliss, with all the spirit's striving,
Only to see oneself cut off by an abyss;
Each moment to desire and yet fear desiring...
O refuge of vexatious hearts,
O grave, sure path to peace,
When will you call to your embrace
The poor bard?'

The bard's no more ... his lyre's silent...
All trace of him has disappeared from here;
The hills and valleys mourn;
And all is still ... save zephyrs soft,
That stir the faded wreath,
And waft betimes above the grave,
A woeful lyre responds:
Poor bard!


Певе 94;

В тени дерев, над чистыми водами
 044;ерновы 081; холм вы видите ль, друзья?
&# 1063;уть слышно там плескае т в брег струя;
Ч&# 1091;ть ветерок там дышит меж листами ;
На ветвях лира и венец...
У вы! друзья, сей холм - могила;
&# 1047;десь прах певца земля сокрыла ;
Бедный певец!

i 4;н сердцем прост, он нежен был душою
Н 086; в мире он минутны й странни к был;
Едв&# 1072; расцвел - и жизнь уж разлюби л
И ждал конца с волнень ем и тоскою;
&# 1048; рано встрети л он конец,
З&# 1072;снул желанны м сном могилы...
Твой век был миг, но миг унылый,
&# 1041;едный певец!

i 4;н дружбу пел, дав другу нежну руку,-
Но верный друг во цвете лет угас;
Он пел любовь - но был печален глас;
Ув&# 1099;! он знал любви одну лишь муку;
Те&# 1087;ерь всему, всему конец;
Т&# 1074;оя душа покой вкусила ;
Ты спишь; тиха твоя могила,
&# 1041;едный певец!

h 7;десь, у ручья, вечерне ю порою
П 088;ощальн 091; песнь он заунывн о пел:
'О красный мир, где я вотще расцвел ;
Прости навек; с обманут ой душою
Я счастья ждал - мечтам конец;
П&# 1086;гибло все, умолкни, лира;
Ск&# 1086;рей, скорей в обитель мира,
Бе&# 1076;ный певец!

j 3;то жизнь, когда в ней нет очарова нья?
Бла&# 1078;енство знать, к нему лететь душой,
Н&# 1086; пропаст ь зреть меж ним и меж собой;
Ж&# 1077;лать всяк час и трепета ть желанья ...
О пристан ь горестн ых сердец,
&# 1052;огила, верный путь к покою,
К&# 1086;гда же будет взят тобою
Б 077;дный певец?'

48; нет певца... его не слышно лиры...
Ег о следы исчезли в сих местах;
&# 1048; скорбно все в долине, на холмах;
&# 1048; все молчит... лишь тихие зефиры,
&# 1050;олебля вянущий венец,
П&# 1086;рою веют над могилой ,
И лира вторит им уныло:
Б&# 1077;дный певец!

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004
Edited: Thursday, February 09, 2012

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