Стихотворения на английском языке: Джон Донн (John Donne, 1572-1631)



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Love’s Alchemy

Some that have deeper digged love’s mine than I,
Say, where his centric happiness doth lie;
I have loved, and got and told,
But should I love, get, tell, till I were old,
I should not find that hidden mystery;
Oh, ‘tis imposture all:
And as no chemic yet the elixir got,
But glorifies his pregnant pot,
If by the way to him befall
Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal,
So lovers dream a rich and long delight,
But get a winter-seeming summer’s night.

Our ease, our thrift, our honour and our day,
Shall we, for this ain bubble’ shadow pay?
Ends love on this, that my man,
Can be as happy as I can
Endure the sort scorn of a bridegroom’s play?
That loving wretch that swears,
Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds,
Which he in her angelic finds,
Wouldswear as justly, that he hears,
In that day’s rude hoarse minstrelsy, the spheres.
Hope not for mind in women; at their best
Sweetness and wit, they are but mummy, possessed.

The Canonization

1     For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love,
2         Or chide my palsy, or my gout,
3         My five grey hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout,
4     With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve,
5             Take you a course, get you a place,
6             Observe his Honour, or his Grace,
7     Or the King's real, or his stamped face
8         Contemplate, what you will, approve,
9         So you will let me love.

10   Alas, alas, who's injur'd by my love?
11       What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd?
12       Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground?
13   When did my colds a forward spring remove?
14           When did the heats which my veins fill
15           Add one more to the plaguy bill?
16   Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still
17       Litigious men, which quarrels move,
18       Though she and I do love.

19   Call us what you will, we are made such by love;
20       Call her one, me another fly,
21       We'are tapers too, and at our own cost die,
22   And we in us find the'eagle and the dove.
23           The ph{oe}nix riddle hath more wit
24           By us; we two being one, are it.
25   So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit,
26       We die and rise the same, and prove
27       Mysterious by this love.

28   We can die by it, if not live by love,
29       And if unfit for tombs and hearse
30       Our legend be, it will be fit for verse;
31   And if no piece of chronicle we prove,
32           We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms;
33           As well a well-wrought urn becomes
34   The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs,
35       And by these hymns all shall approve
36       Us canoniz'd for love;

37   And thus invoke us: "You, whom reverend love
38       Made one another's hermitage;
39       You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage;
40   Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove
41           Into the glasses of your eyes
42           (So made such mirrors, and such spies,
43   That they did all to you epitomize)
44       Countries, towns, courts: beg from above
45       A pattern of your love!"


1             Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
2             Why dost thou thus,
3     Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
4     Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
5             Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
6             Late schoolboys, and sour prentices,
7         Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
8         Call country ants to harvest offices,
9     Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
10   Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

11           Thy beams, so reverend and strong
12           Why shouldst thou think?
13   I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
14   But that I would not lose her sight so long:
15           If her eyes have not blinded thine,
16           Look, and tomorrow late, tell me
17       Whether both the'Indias of spice and mine
18       Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
19   Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
20   And thou shalt hear: "All here in one bed lay."

21           She'is all states, and all princes I,
22           Nothing else is.
23   Princes do but play us; compar'd to this,
24   All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
25           Thou, sun, art half as happy'as we,
26           In that the world's contracted thus;
27       Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
28       To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
29   Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
30   This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.


1     Go and catch a falling star,
2         Get with child a mandrake root,
3     Tell me where all past years are,
4         Or who cleft the devil's foot,
5     Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
6     Or to keep off envy's stinging,
7             And find
8             What wind
9     Serves to advance an honest mind.

10   If thou be'st born to strange sights,
11       Things invisible to see,
12   Ride ten thousand days and nights,
13       Till age snow white hairs on thee,
14   Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
15   All strange wonders that befell thee,
16           And swear,
17           No where
18   Lives a woman true, and fair.

19   If thou find'st one, let me know,
20       Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
21   Yet do not, I would not go,
22       Though at next door we might meet;
23   Though she were true, when you met her,
24   And last, till you write your letter,
25           Yet she
26           Will be
27   False, ere I come, to two, or three.


1     Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
2         Which was my sin, though it were done before?
3     Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
4         And do run still, though still I do deplore?
5             When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
6                 For I have more.

7     Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
8         Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
9     Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
10       A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score?
11           When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
12               For I have more.

13   I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
14       My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
15   But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
16       Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
17           And, having done that, thou hast done;
18               I fear no more.


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В этом разделе вы найдёте Стихотворения на английском языке: Джон Донн (John Donne, 1572-1631)

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