---------------------------------------------------------------
Emily Dickinson. Russian Translations
       ""  20 
1996 .
 .    (  ).
      :

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  Success is counted sweetest.   .
  Let down the Brs, Oh Deth -.  ,  -
  It's Coming - the postponeless Creture -.  -    -
  Becuse I could not stop for Deth.      .
  Becuse tht you re going.   .
    : The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Edited
by Th.H.Johnson. Cmbridge (Mss.), 1955, 3 vol.  
    .



                     67

          Success is counted sweetest
          By those who ne'er succeed.
          To comprehend  nectr
          Reqires sorest need.

          Not one of ll the purple Host
          Who took the Flg tody
          Cn tell the definition
          So cler of Victory


          s He defeted - dying -
          On whose forbidden er
          The distnt strins of triumph
          Burst gonised nd cler!


                *  *  *
             
            .
            
            .

             
             
             
           

            -  - 
             ,
              
            !


                 1065

          Let down the Brs, Oh Deth -
         The tired Flocks come in
         Whose bleting ceses to repet
         Whose wndering is done -

         Thine is the stillest night

         Thine the securest Fold
         Too ner Thou rt for seeking Thee
         Too tender, to be told.

               *  *  *
          ,  -
          
          ,  
           -

           ,
           
           -   ,
          -  .



                        39O

          It's Coming - the postponeless Creture -
          It gins the Block - nd now - it gins the Door -
          Choses its ltch from ll the other fstenings -
          Enters with '"You know Me - Sir?"

          Simple Slute - nd Certin Recognition -
          Bold - were it Enemy - Brief - were it Friend
          Dresses ech House in Crpe, nd Icicle
          nd Crries One - out of it - to God


                       *  *  *
           -    -
            -   -   -
            -     -
          : “  , ?"

            -   -
           -   -   -   -
              
                


                          712

          Becuse I could not stop for Deth,
          He kindly stopped for me -
          The Crrige held but just ourselves
          nd Immortlity.

          We slowly drove - He knew no hste
          nd I hd put wy
          My lbour nd my leizure too,
          For His Civility

          We pssed the School where Children strove
          t Resess - in the Ring -
          We pssed the Fields of Gizing Grin,
          We pssed the Setting Sun -

          Or rther - He pssed us -
          THe Dews drew quivering nd chill
          For only Gossmer my Gown -
          My Tippet - only Tulle -

          We pused before  House tht semed
           Swelling of the Ground -
          The roof ws scrcely visible -
          The Cornice - in the Ground.

          Since then - 'tis Centuries - nd yet
          Feels shorter thn the Dy
          I first surmised tht Horses' Heds
          Were towrd Eternity -


                *  *  *
                -
            -   -
               -
          ,   .

             ,
             
             
            -


             -
            -   -
               -
            -

           -   
             -
           -   
              -

              -
             -
              -
              -

                -   
             ,
           ,  
             -


                   126O

          Becuse tht   you   re going
          nd never comimg bck
          nd I, however ccurte,
          My overlook your Trck -

          Becuse tht Deth is finl,
          However first it be,
          This moment be postponed
          bove Mortlity -

          Significnce tht   ech   hs lived
          The other to detect
          Discovery not God Himself
          Cn now nnihilte.

          Eternity, Presumption,
          The instnt I perceive
          Tht you, who were Existence,
          Yourself forgot to live -

          The "Life tht is"  will  then  hve been
           thing I never knew -
          s Prdise fictiious
          Untill the Relm of you -

          The "Life tht is to be", to me,
           Residence too plin,
          Unless in my Redeemer's Fce
          I recognize your own

          Of Immortlity who doubts
          He my exchnge with me,
          Curtiled by your obscuring Fce
          Of everything but He -

          Of Heven nd Hell I lso yield
          The Right to reprehend
          To whoso would commute this Fce
          For his less priceless Friend.

          If "God is Love" s He dmits,
          We think tht He must be
          Becuse He is  jelous God
          He tells us certinly,

          If "ll is possible for Him"
          s He besides concedes,
          He will refund us finlly
          Our confiscted Gods -



                *  *  *
            ,
             ,
           C   
            ,


            - ,
              ,
            
           "".

               
           
           ,    ,
             .

             
            -
             ,
             .

              
           "  "?
              
              .

          "   "  -  
           ,
             
            .

            
            ,
             
          ,    .

             
            
           -   -
              ?

           " - " -    ,
             
             
            ,

           " "  
             ,
            
             -




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: 10, Last-modified: Mon, 04 Dec 2000 17:44:35 GMT