Записи с темой: hardy, thomas (список заголовков)

Thomas Hardy
Before Marching, and After

In Memoriam F. W. G.*
Orion swung southward aslant
Where the starved Egdon pine-trees had thinned,
The Pleiads aloft seemed to pant
With the heather that twitched in the wind;
But he looked on indifferent to sights such as these,
Unswayed by love, friendship, home joy or home sorrow,
And wondered to what he would march on the morrow.

The crazed household clock with its whirr
Rang midnight within as he stood,
He heard the low sighing of her
Who had striven from his birth for his good;
But he still only asked the spring starlight, the breeze,
What great thing or small thing his history would borrow
From that Game with Death he would play on the morrow.

When the heath wore the robe of late summer,
And the fuchsia-bells, hot in the sun,
Hung red by the door, a quick comer
Brought tidings that marching was done
For him who had joined in that game overseas
Where Death stood to win; though his memory would borrow
A brightness therefrom not to die on the morrow.

* F. W. G. - Frank William George - "distant cousin", who Hardy thought of as his heir, is killed at Gallipoli in 1915 (c)

@темы: 20, english-british, h, hardy, thomas


Thomas Hardy
Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
ХХХIII. A Meeting with Despair

As evening shaped I found me on a moor
Which sight could scarce sustain:
The black lean land, of featureless contour,
Was like a tract in pain.

“This scene, like my own life,” I said, “is one
Where many glooms abide;
Toned by its fortune to a deadly dun—
Lightless on every side.

I glanced aloft and halted, pleasure-caught
To see the contrast there:
The ray-lit clouds gleamed glory; and I thought,
“There’s solace everywhere!”

Then bitter self-reproaches as I stood
I dealt me silently
As one perverse—misrepresenting Good
In graceless mutiny.

Against the horizon’s dim-descernèd wheel
A form rose, strange of mould:
That he was hideous, hopeless, I could feel
Rather than could behold.

“’Tis a dead spot, where even the light lies spent
To darkness!” croaked the Thing.
“Not if you look aloft!” said I, intent
On my new reasoning.

“Yea—but await awhile!” he cried. “Ho-ho!—
Look now aloft and see!”
I looked. There, too, sat night: Heaven’s radiant show
Had gone. Then chuckled he.

@темы: victorian, hardy, thomas, h, english-british, 19


Thomas Hardy
Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
VI. Postponement

Snow-bound in woodland, a mournful word,
Dropt now and then from the bill of a bird,
Reached me on wind-wafts; and thus I heard,
Wearily waiting:—

“I planned her a nest in a leafless tree,
But the passers eyed and twitted me,
And said: ‘How reckless a bird is he,
Cheerily mating!’

“Fear-filled, I stayed me till summer-tide,
In lewth of leaves to throne her bride;
But alas! her love for me waned and died,
Wearily waiting.

“Ah, had I been like some I see,
Born to an evergreen nesting-tree,
None had eyed and twitted me,
Cheerily mating!”

@темы: 19, english-british, h, hardy, thomas, victorian


Thomas Hardy
The Voice of Things

Forty years—aye, and several more—ago,
When I paced the headlands loosed from dull employ,
The waves huzza’d like a multitude below,
In the sway of an all-including joy
Without cloy.

Blankly I walked there a double decade after,
When thwarts had flung their toils in front of me,
And I heard the waters wagging in a long ironic laughter
At the lot of men, and all the vapoury
Things that be.

Wheeling change has set me again standing where
Once I heard the waves huzza at Lammas-tide;
But they supplicate now—like a congregation there
Who murmur the Confession—I outside,
Prayer denied.

@темы: 20, english-british, h, hardy, thomas



@темы: 19, 20, english-british, h, hardy, thomas


Thomas Hardy

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
'He was a man who used to notice such things'?

If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink,
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
'To him this must have been a familiar sight.'

If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, 'He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.'

If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
'He was one who had an eye for such mysteries'?

And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom,
'He hears it not now, but used to notice such things'?

Томас Харди
После меня

Когда Время за робким гостем запрет ворота
И месяц май, оживясь, молодою листвою заплещет,
Свежей и тонкой, как шелк, - скажут ли люди тогда:
"Он всегда умел замечать подобные вещи"?

Если это случится в зябкую рань пред зарей,
Когда ястреба тень над землею скользит невесомо,
Может, кто-то подумает, глядя в сумрак сырой:
"Это зрелище было ему, конечно, знакомо".

Если это случится в мотыльковую, теплую ночь,
Когда ежик бредет своей лунной опасной дорогой,
Пусть кто-то скажет: "Он жалел и желал бы помочь
Всем беспомощным тварям; но мог он, конечно, не много".

Если слух долетит до друзей, когда будут они
За порогом на зимнее небо смотреть, где созвездья роятся,
Пусть припомнят, на эти бессчетные глядя огни:
"Вот кто вправду умел на земле чудесам удивляться".

И когда колокольчика отзвук, прощально звеня,
Вдруг замолкнет, оборванный ветром, и снова вдали
Словно это другой колокольчик, - скажет ли кто про меня:
"Он любил и умел замечать подобные вещи"?

Пер. Г. Кружков

@темы: х (rus), к (rus), г (rus), kruzhkov, grigory, hardy, thomas, h, english-british, 20


Thomas Hardy (1840-1928)
A Night In November

I marked when the weather changed,
And the panes began to quake,
And the winds rose up and ranged,
That night, lying half-awake.

Dead leaves blew into my room,
And alighted upon my bed,
And a tree declared to the gloom
Its sorrow that they were shed.

One leaf of them touched my hand,
And I thought that it was you
There stood as you used to stand,
And saying at last you knew!

Томас Гарди
Ночь в ноябре

Я заметил, что когда
Наступают холода, --
Ветра странствием полна,
Ночь в движенье полусна:

Листья в комнату летят,
Под кроватью шелестят,
Дерево, роняя их,
Плачет, словно о живых,

И когда тихонько вдруг
Тонкий лист коснется рук --
Это ты пришла опять
То последнее сказать.
пер. О. Татариновой

@темы: h, english-british, 20, hardy, thomas, г (rus)


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
11.10.2013 в 12:50
Пишет Lika_k:

Когда читала "Маунтолива", при чтении описания Мемлик-Паши, когда упоминается ослепленение и шутка Мемлика про хороших певцов, сразу вспомнилось одно стихотворение Томаса Гарди. Как раз из этого стихотворения когда-то узнала о жуткой практике Vinkensport (не знаю, как это называется по-русски) и до сих пор трясет при каждой мысли об этом.

Thomas Hardy
The Blinded Bird

So zestfully canst thou sing?
And all this indignity,
With God's consent, on thee!
Blinded ere yet a-wing
By the red-hot needle thou,
I stand and wonder how
So zestfully thou canst sing!

Resenting not such wrong,
Thy grievous pain forgot,
Eternal dark thy lot,
Groping thy whole life long;
After that stab of fire;
Enjailed in pitiless wire;
Resenting not such wrong!

Who hath charity? This bird.
Who suffereth long and is kind,
Is not provoked, though blind
And alive ensepulchred?
Who hopeth, endureth all things?
Who thinketh no evil, but sings?
Who is divine? This bird.

URL записи

@темы: h, english-british, d, 20, hardy, thomas, repost


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Thomas Hardy
"As 'twere to-night"

As 'twere to-night, in the brief space
Of a far eventime,
My spirit rang achime
At vision of a girl of grace;
As 'twere to-night, in the brief space
Of a far eventime.

As 'twere at noontide of to-morrow
I airily walked and talked,
And wondered as I walked
What it could mean, this soar from sorrow;
As 'twere at noontide of to-morrow
I airily walked and talked.

As 'twere at waning of this week
Broke a new life on me;
Trancings of bliss to be
In some dim dear land soon to seek;
As 'twere at waning of this week
Broke a new life on me!

@темы: h, english-british, 20, 19, hardy, thomas


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Thomas Hardy
Lines to a Movement in Mozart's e-flat Symphony

Show me again the time
When in the Junetide's prime
We flew by meads and mountains northerly!--
Yea, to such freshness, fairness, fulness, fineness, freeness,
Love lures life on.

Show me again the day
When from the sandy bay
We looked together upon the pestered sea!--
Yea, to such surging, swaying, sighing, swelling, shrinking,
Love lures life on.

Show me again the hour
When by the pinnacled tower
We eyed each other and feared futurity!--
Yea, to such bodings, broodings, beatings, blanchings, blessings,
Love lures life on.

Show me again just this:
The moment of that kiss
Away from the prancing folks by the strawberry-tree!--
Yea, to such rashness, ratheness, rareness, ripeness, richness,
Love lures life on.

Begun November 1898.

Mozart Symphony No 39 K 543 E flat major: Karl Böhm & Wiener Symphoniker

@темы: music, hardy, thomas, h, english-british, 20, 19, youtube


Thomas Hardy
If I have seen one thing
It is the passing preciousness of dreams;
That aspects are within us; and who seems
Most kingly is the King.

@темы: h, english-british, 20, 19, hardy, thomas


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Thomas Hardy
I TRAVEL as a phantom now,
For people do not wish to see
In flesh and blood so bare a bough
As Nature makes of me.

And thus I visit bodiless
Strange gloomy households often at odds,
And wonder if Man's consciousness
Was a mistake of God's.

And next I meet you, and I pause,
And think that if mistake it were,
As some have said, O then it was
One that I well can bear!


@темы: h, english-british, 20, hardy, thomas


Gieb ihr ein Schweigen (c)
Thomas Hardy
The hour itself was a ghost,
And it seemed to me then
As of chances the chance furthermost
I should see her again.
I beheld not where all was so fleet
That a Plan of the past
Which had ruled us from birthtime to meet
Was in working at last:

@темы: h, english-british, 20, 19, hardy, thomas

Pure Poetry