Time to hunt? — the moon had risen.
To the servant “Now!” I said,
“To the swamp’s benighted prison,
We should track where beaver’s fled.”
But in answer he now smiling —
Scarcely could he triumph hide —
“Master,” cried, “Stop your beguiling,
It’s the eve of Christmastide.
And tonight all beasts together —
Lions, elephants and mice —
At the pearly gates will tether,
Where they’ve come to gladden Christ.
There at first in peace they’ll gather —
There each other they’ll not fight,
They won’t get into a lather,
They won’t kick or buck or bite.
And when comes, past human knowing,
Shining God to take his seat,
All with roaring, barking, lowing
There will gather at his feet.
Had you eyes, you would distinguish
There among them beaver yet,
If you seek him to extinguish,
You’ll by troubles be beset!”
I replied: “I’ve sleep to get!”
Месяц встал; ну что ж, охота?
Я сказал слуге: «Пора!
Нынче ночью у болота
Надо выследить бобра».
Но, осклабясь для ответа,
Чуть скрывая торжество,
Он воскликнул: «Что ты, гета,
Завтра будет Рождество.
И сегодня ночью звери:
Львы, слоны и мелкота —
Все придут к небесной двери,
Будут радовать Христа.
Ни один из них вначале
На других не нападет,
Ни укусит, ни ужалит,
Ни лягнет и ни боднет.
А когда, людьми не знаем,
В поле выйдет Светлый Бог,
Все с мычаньем, ревом, лаем
У его столпились ног.
Будь ты зрячим, ты б увидел
Там и своего бобра,
Но когда б его обидел,
Мало было бы добра».
Я ответил: «Спать пора!»
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