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Из Сборника «English Verses»56
If Poetry was Music
ОглавлениеIf Poetry was Music, – what, mostly, is, —
I’d rather be a voice, that of the melos
Plays beyond the Tacts, that of the lyriс
Freer than forebound words of textured song,
Like a strange wonderer, ne’er care if right or wrong
Half-slept Composer planned it be, for world
Could learn its inner history; and that of stress,
Of hidden breath, of rarest thought in notes unread —
«Twould be a witness of the sacred dialect
For new-found sounds be your own mistery.
A song, sings newborn song, a dreaming dream —
Much I would love it can be; – honestly,
I’d dare to mix then a sort of nostalgie
For things unheardable with archi-tenor fancy,
What could be like no energy th’Sky needs to hymn
A Scene of very Soul of the pure Listening.
This glancing Myth! And you in it, you genious
Are the creator of the future bliss, at once:
That inspiration yours brings that what I’ve brought not:
The orphies70 from within you join my pauses,
And it is like the Chance compose that I ne’er heard, —
No falsed, no spoilt, – and this is might be somewhat…
What could be told thus of the sacrifice in notes?71
(13.11.2014 – 03.12.2014;
Moscow dacha by S. Posad)
70
The «orphies» meant to be «the orpheisms» in shorten friendly use of this word, and all of you let never stay doubting then, that, originally, it relates to Orpheus the Archi-poetic Singer and to the thoughts around him and his themes, all Haides-raising.
71
This last line, here, also was thought to be written as: «What could be told, thus, of the sacrifice of loving note?» However, this second sense is rather more poetically difficult and emotionally complicated.
