И НЕ ТОЛЬКО ПО-РУССКИ...

АКАДЕМИЧЕСКИЕ ПЕРЕВОДЫ

Ф. П. АДАМС

Ode 3.30

Look you, the monument I have erected
High as the pyramids, royal, sublime,
During as brass -- it shall not be affected
E'en by the elements coupled with Time.

Part of me, most of me never shall perish;
I shall be free from Oblivion's curse;
Mine is a name that the future will cherish —
I shall be known by my excellent verse.

I shall be famous all over this nation,
Centuries after my self shall have died;
People will point to my versification —
I, who was born on the Lower East Side!

Come, then, Melpomene, why not admit me?
I want a wreath that is Delphic and green,
Seven, I think, is the size that will fit me —
Slip me some laurel to wear on my bean.

1911

The Monument of Q. Horatius Flaccus*

Reader, the monument that I've
Erected ever shall survive
As long as brass; and it shall stay
Despite the stormiest, wildest day.
Though winds assail, yet shall it stand
High as the pyramids, and grand.
Eternally my name will be
Triumphant in posterity.
Recurrent will my praises sound;
I shall be terribly renowned.
Born though I was of folk obscure,
Unknown, I spilled Some Lit'rature.
Now, O Melpomene, my queen,
Entwine the laurel on my bean!

1913

His Monument

The monument that I have built is durable as brass,
And loftier than the Pyramids which mock the years that pass.
Nor blizzard can destroy it, nor furious rain corrode —
Remember, I'm the bard that built the first Horatian ode.

I shall not altogether die; a part of me's immortal.
A part of me shall never pass the mortuary portal;
And when I die my fame shall stand the nitric test of time —
The fame of me of lowly birth, who built the lofty rhyme!

Ay, fame shall be my portion when no trace there is of me,
For I first made Aeolian songs the songs of Italy.
Accept I pray, Melpomene, my modest meed of praise,
And crown my thinning, graying locks with wreaths of Delphic bays!

‹1920›

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* Этот акростих, начальные буквы которого составляют призыв "Read the Tribune" ("Читайте Tribune"), был напечатан в прощальной колонке Ф. П. Адамса в Evening Mail, когда он покидал Evening Mail, переходя в Tribune.