Muses, enough, cease your sobbing,
Pour out your grief into singing,
Sing about Dante soul-stirring,
Or play the flute, play with feeling.
Move on, annoying faun deities,
Music is dead in your screaming!
Haven’t you learned only lately
Beatrice exited Eden.
All white and strange Rose is lurking
In quiet chill of the evening...
What’s this? Additional warning?
Or is this plea for forgiving?
There lived a flustered artist
Used to the worldly deceptions –
Sinner, seducer... impious,
Beatrice was the exception.
Poet’s reclusive affection
Turned into luminous currents,
Turned into torrents of passion,
Tugging away at his heartstrings.
Muses, in this splendid sonnet
Render the riddle to setting,
Sing about Dante, be certain,
Gabriel Dante Rossetti.
Музы, рыдать перестаньте,
Грусть вашу в песнях излейте,
Спойте мне песню о Данте
Или сыграйте на флейте.
Дальше, докучные фавны,
Музыки нет в вашем кличе!
Знаете ль вы, что недавно
Бросила рай Беатриче,
Странная белая роза
В тихой вечерней прохладе…
Что это? Снова угроза
Или мольба о пощаде?
Жил беспокойный художник.
В мире лукавых обличий —
Грешник, развратник, безбожник,
Но он любил Беатриче.
Тайные думы поэта
В сердце его прихотливом
Стали потоками света,
Стали шумящим приливом.
Музы, в сонете-брильянте
Странную тайну Отметьте,
Спойте мне песню о Данте
И Габриеле Россетти.
«A floweret, withered, odorless / In a book forgot I find; / And already strange reflection / Cometh into my mind. Bloomed, where? when? In what spring? / And how long ago? And plucked by whom? / Was it by a strange hand? Was it by a dear hand? / And wherefore left thus here? Was it in ...»
«If by life you were deceived, / Don't be dismal, don't be wild! / In the day of grief, be mild / Merry days will come, believe. Heart is living in tomorrow; / Present is dejected here; / In a moment, passes sorrow; / That which passes will be dear.»
«Should this life sometime deceive you, / Don't be sad or mad at it! / On a gloomy day, submit: / Trust — fair day will come, why grieve you? Heart lives in the future, so / What if gloom pervade the present? / All is fleeting, all will go; / What is gone will then be pleasant.»
«Should ill-fortune cause you sadness — / Don't live dwelling on the pain! / Don't be bitter, don't complain: / It will come, your day of gladness. Future hope sustains the heart; / Present comes as bleak and drear: / All is brief and will depart; / The departed will be dear.»