«Кошмар По-эта»

Говард Филлипс Лавкрафт

Кошмар По-эта

Special thanks are due to S.T. Joshi for his permission to use comments for H.P. Lovecraft lyrics, published in this edition.

© Д. Попов, перевод на русский язык, 2020

© ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2020

Стихотворения

Fungi from Yuggoth / Грибки с Юггота

I. The Book

II. Pursuit

II. Преследование

III. The Key

IV. Recognition

IV. Осознание

V. Homecoming

V. Возвращение домой

VI. The Lamp

VII. Zaman’s Hill

VII. Холм Замана

VIII. The Port

VIII. Порт

IX. The Courtyard

IX. Внутренний двор

X. The Pigeon-Flyers

X. Голубиная почта

XI. The Well

XI. Колодец

XII. The Howler

XII. Ревун

XIII. Hesperia

XIII. Гесперия

XIV. Star-Winds

XIV. Звездные ветры

XV. Antarktos

XV. Антарктос

XVI. The Window

XVII. A Memory

XVII. Воспоминание

XVIII. The Gardens of Yin

XVIII. Сады Йина

XIX. The Bells

XIX. Колокола

XX. Night-Gaunts

XX. Ночные мверзи

XXI. Nyarlathotep

XXI. Ньярлатхотеп

XXII. Azathoth

XXII. Азатот

XXIII. Mirage

XXIII. Мираж

XXIV. The Canal

XXIV. Канал

XXV. St. Toad’s

XXV. Сент-Тоуд

XXVI. The Familiars

XXVI. Домашние духи

XXVII. The Elder Pharos

XXVII. Маяк Старшего

XXVIII. Expectancy

XXVIII. Ожидание

XXIX. Nostalgia

XXIX. Ностальгия

XXX. Background

XXX. Истоки

XXXI. The Dweller

XXXI. Житель

XXXII. Alienation

XXXII. Отчуждение

XXXIII. Harbour Whistles

XXXIII. Портовые гудки

XXXIV. Recapture

XXXIV. Поимка

XXXV. Evening Star

XXXV. Вечерняя звезда

XXXVI. Continuity

XXXVI. Непрерывность

Poemata Minora, Volume II / Маленькие стихотворения, Том II

To The Gods, Heroes, & Ideals Of The ANCIENTS

This Volume is Affectionately DEDICATED By A GREAT ADMIRER.

I submit to the publik these idle lines, hoping they will please. They form a sort of series, with my Odyssey, Iliad, Aeneid, and the like.

Данный том с любовью ПОСВЯЩАЕТСЯ ЯРЫМ ПОКЛОННИКОМ Богам, Героям и Идеалам ДРЕВНИХ

Представляю публике сии праздные строки с надеждой, что они ей понравятся. Вместе с моими «Одиссеей», «Илиадой», «Энеидой» и прочими они образуют что-то вроде цикла.

Ode to Selene or Diana

Ода Селене, или Диане

To the Old Pagan Religion

Древней языческой религии

On the Ruin of Rome

На развалинах Рима

On the Vanity of Human Ambition

На тщетность человеческих стремлений

[To His Mother on Thanksgiving]

[Матери на День благодарения]

The End of the Jackson War

Конец джексоновской войны

The Teuton’s Battle-Song

Omnis erat vulnus unda

Terra rubefacta calido

Frendebat gladius in loricas

Gladius fludebat clypeus…

Non retrocedat vir a viro

Hoc fuit viri fortis nobilitas diu…

Laetus cerevisiam cum Asis

In summa sede bibam

Vitae clapsae sunt horae

Ridens moriar.

Тевтонская боевая песнь

Каждая рана потоком

Землю багрила теплым вином

Меч звенел о латы

Меч крошил щиты…

Воин с воином сошлись

Сей воин храбрый славен давно…

Радостный, брагу из земли Азийской,

Воссев на вершине, я выпью.

Жизни ускользают часы.

Смеющийся, умру.

On Receiving a Picture of Swans

На получение открытки с лебедями

Temperance Song

[Tune: “The Bonnie Blue Flag”]

Песнь трезвости

The Poe-et’s Nightmare

Luxus tumultus semper causa est.

Чрезмерность враг покоя неизменно.

Aletheia Phrikodes

Omnia risus et omnia pulvis et omnia nihil.

Ужасающая правда

Все суть смех, все суть прах, все суть ничто.

The Unknown

The Nymph’s Reply to the Modern Business Man

With Apologies to W. Raleigh, Esq. See Tryout for October, 1916.

Ответ нимфы современному бизнесмену

С извинениями У. Рэли, эсквайру. См. «Трайаут» за октябрь 1916.

The Poet of Passion

Поэт страсти

Astrophobos

Астрофобия

A Cycle of Verse / Стихотворный цикл

Mother Earth

Мать-Земля

Revelation

Откровение

To Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, Eighteenth Baron Dunsany

Эдварду Джону Мортону Драксу Планкетту, восемнадцатому барону Дансени

The Nightmare Lake

Озеро кошмаров

To Phillis

(With humblest possible apologies to Randolph St. John, Gent.)

(С покорнейшими извинениями Рэндольфу Сент-Джону, джентльмену)

Nyarlathotep

Nyarlathotep… the crawling chaos… I am the last… I will tell the audient void…

I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.

And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

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