Гурвич Владимир Александрович : другие произведения.

Девушка пела в церковном хоре

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Девушка пела в церковном хоре
О всех усталых в чужом краю,
О всех кораблях, ушедших в море,
О всех, забывших радость свою.

Так пел ее голос, летящий в купол,
И луч сиял на белом плече,
И каждый из мрака смотрел и слушал,
Как белое платье пело в луче.

И всем казалось, что радость будет,
Что в тихой заводи все корабли,
Что на чужбине усталые люди
Светлую жизнь себе обрели.

И голос был сладок, и луч был тонок,
И только высоко, у Царских Врат,
Причастный Тайнам,- плакал ребенок
О том, что никто не придет назад.

Александр Блок, август 1905

---

A girl was singing in the old church choir,
About the ships that sailed in the mist,
About those abroad, whose lives turned dire,
And those who've lost their happiness and bliss.

Up in the cupolas, her voice had filled the room,
The sun, upon her shoulders, made them white,
And everyone was watching from the gloom
The way her dress sang out in the light.

And they all thought that joy was close at hand,
That ships were stationed in a peaceful bay,
That those abroad, were living there, content,
And basking in the soothing, balmy rays.

Her voice was gentle and the light was sweeping
Up, by the altar gates, where, all alone,
Aware of the Secret, - a child was weeping
That no one was ever again coming home.

Андрей Кнеллер

---

The girl was singing in a church choir,
About the weary abroad, far away,
About the ships in the sea, so dire,
And those who'd forgotten their happy day.

So sweet was her voice flying up into highness
With shimmering beam on her shoulder of white,
And every one listened watching from darkness
The way the white garment was singing in light.

And every one thought that the joy was there, 
That the ships were all in a quiet bay,
And the weary people abroad, full of care,
Were now all blessed with a happy day.

The voice was sweet, and the beam was shining,
And only up there at the royal rack
A child, conversant with secret, was crying
That nobody, really, would ever come back.

A.S. Vagapov  

---

A young girl sang in a temple choir
Of ships that departed for distant lands,
Of those far away, estranged and tired,
Who left far behind their homes and friends.

Her song traveled high toward the sun,
Her shoulder touched by delicate light,
While back in the shadows, everyone
Was gazing in awe at her dress so white,

And they believed that gladness was near,
That ships had arrived at a quiet shore,
That voyagers sailing away from here
Had found the comfort they traveled for.

So sweet was her voice, so soft the light,
While high above underneath the dome
In sacred communion, cried a child
For no one is ever coming home.

Евгения Саркисьянц 
@
http://www.stihi.ru/2010/12/29/5972

---

A young girl sang in the church's choir
Of all the tired in distand parts,
Of all the ships that faced oceans dire,
Of all who' ve forgotten joy in their hearts.

Her voice rang out and soared to the dome,
A sundeam shone on her shoulder white,
And each one looked and harked in the gloom
How the white robe sang in the ray of light.

And to all it seemed that joy soon would come,
That the ships were all in a quiet bay,
That the tired people in their new home
Had found for themselves a brighter day.

And her voice was sweet, and the light was fine,
And only at heaven' s gates forlorn,
Aware of the secret - an infant whined
That none of those travelers ever return.

Walter May 
@
http://shakchmatovo.amr-museum.ru/engl/poetic_e.htm

---

A girl was singing in the church choir
About all ships that have gone to the sea,
About people joyless and tired
Who left long ago and never were seen.

Her voice was flying right to the dome,
And on her white shoulder the ray did beam,
And everyone looked and listened from
The dark how th'white gown sang in the beam.

And all believed in a happy end,
That all ships luckily crossed the seas,
And all tired people in th'alien land
Have finally found some rest and ease.

And her voice was sweet, and the ray was bright,
And only one child did weep and mourn,
There, at the Altar Gates, in the height,
That nobody will ever return.

VG, 25 декабря 2012




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