Пушкин. Мадонна. Опыт перевода.

Дата: 18-06-2015 | 02:10:56

Александр Пушкин

Мадонна (1830)

Не множеством картин старинных мастеров
Украсить я всегда желал свою обитель,
Чтоб суеверно им дивился посетитель,
Внимая важному сужденью знатоков.

В простом углу моём, средь медленных трудов,
Одной картины я желал быть вечно зритель,
Одной: чтоб на меня с холста, как с облаков,
Пречистая и наш божественный Спаситель –

Она с величием, Он с разумом в очах –
Взирали, кроткие, во славе и в лучах,
Одни, без ангелов, под пальмою Сиона.

Исполнились мои желания. Творец
Тебя мне ниспослал, тебя, моя Мадонна,
Чистейшей прелести чистейший образец.

Alexander Pushkin
Madonna (1830)

(sonnet following the original, iambic hexameter, masculine and feminine rhymes,
the order of rhymes exactly as in the original)

Not with а multitude of paintings, old and bright,
For years did I wish to grace my home and lure
A credulously awed, infatuated viewer,
While pompous connoisseurs would judge them all they might.

No, in my artless den I wanted to delight
My eyes with only one, one painting, to be sure.
There, from the gleaming cloth, as if from clouds white,
The Mother holiest and our Saviour pure,

She with Her majesty, and with His reason He,
In glory and in rays, would watch me modestly,
Under the Sion palm, alone, no angels near.

My dreams have been fulfilled. You came to me at dawn
By the Creator's will, my love, Madonna dear,
You, of the purest charm the purest paragon.

(sonnet of the English type, iambic pentameter, masculine rhymes,
the order of rhymes corrected)

Oh, not with many paintings, old and bright,
Did I intend to beautify my place,
Where visitors, amazed, incredulous,
Would listen to the experts talk all night.
One painting to my eyes would bring delight
For years, and to my toils no hastiness,
Just one, in which the Mother of all grace
And Saviour, as if from clouds white,

She with proud splendour, and with wisdom He,
In glorious rays would watch me modestly,
Under the Sion palm, no angels near.
My dreams came true. You dignify my home
By the Creator's will, Madonna dear,
Of purest charms the purest epitome.

(“modern” sonnet, freed from the constrictions of rhyme and meter)

Not with a multitude of the old masters' works
Did I ever wish to have my place adorned,
Where a visitor, overawed, would marvel at them,
Listening to the pompous remarks of the connoisseurs.

In my simple corner, amid unhurried toils,
I wished to be an eternal viewer of one painting,
Just one: from the canvas, as if from the clouds,
The purest Virgin and our divine Saviour,

She with majesty, and He with reason in His eyes,
Would watch me modestly, in glory and in rays,
Alone, without angels, under the Sion palm.

My wishes have come true. The Creator
Sent you down to me, my Madonna,
Of the purest charm the purest epitome.

(translation freed from the sonnet form altogether, modern free verse)

Not with a multitude of paintings,
the works of ancient masters,
did I ever wish to adorn my place,
in order to see how a visitor
in superstitious amazement
hangs on the self-important
judgements of the connoisseurs.

In my simple corner,
in the midst of slow toils,
I wanted to be
an eternal viewer
of one painting, just one:

it would show the purest Virgin
and our divine Saviour
looking at me
from the canvas,
as if from the clouds.

She would be majestic,
and His eyes would radiate reason.

Both modest, in glory and rays,
They would watch me,
alone, without angels,
under the Sion palm...

My wishes came true.
The Creator sent you
down here, to me,

my Madonna,

of the purest charm
the purest paragon.