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PUSHKIN The Gypsies (4)
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ЦЫГАНЫ (continued)
Молодой цыган Ещё одно... одно лобзанье... Земфира Пора: мой муж ревнив и зол. Цыган Одно... но доле!.. на прощанье. Земфира Прощай, покамест не пришёл. Цыган Скажи — когда ж опять свиданье? Земфира
Сегодня, как зайдёт луна, Цыган Обманет! не придёт она! Земфира Вот он! беги!.. Приду, мой милый.
Алеко спит. В его уме
Могила на краю дороги 1-й голос Пора... 2-й голос Постой... 1-й голос Пора, мой милый. 2-й голос Нет, нет, постой, дождемся дня. 1-й голос Уж поздно. 2-й голос
Как ты робко любишь. 1-й голос Ты меня погубишь. 2-й голос Минуту! 1-й голос
Если без меня Алеко
Проснулся я. Куда вы! не спешите оба; Вам хорошо и здесь у гроба. Земфира Мой друг, беги, беги... Алеко
Постой! Куда, красавец молодой? Лежи! Вонзает в него нож. Земфира Алеко! Цыган Умираю... Земфира
Алеко, ты убьёшь его! Алеко
Ничего. Земфира
Нет, полно, не боюсь тебя! — Алеко Умри ж и ты! Поражает её. Земфира Умру любя...
Восток, денницей озарённый,
Тогда старик, приближась, рек:
Сказал — и шумною толпою ЭПИЛОГ
Волшебной силой песнопенья
В стране, где долго, долго брани
Но счастья нет и между вами, |
THE GYPSIES (cont.) Just one more kiss, just one. It's time. My husband's a jealous fiend. Just one... but longer... as a goodbye. Goodbye. Before he comes. When shall we next meet. Tell me. Tonight. When the moon sets, there, Behind the mound beside the tomb. She'll deceive me! She will not come! He's here! I'll be back, my love. But you must run! ........................................................................................................................ Aleko sleeps and in his mind A darkling dream plays tricks on him. With a shout he wakes, only to find In the gloom his hand is searching jealously; But his timid hand as it reaches out Clutches cold blankets in its grasp ---- His beloved is absent, she has gone. Trembling he rises and listens intently And all is silent around --- terror seizes him And cold and fever in turn invade him. He rises and hastily leaves the tent And wanders around the wagons grimly. All is still, the open fields are silent, It is dark, behind the mist the cold moon hides, Scarcely the starlight on the fields abides, And a scarcely visible trace is seen Of footsteps through dew to the burial mound: Impatiently he follows them where they gleam, An ominous trace on the dewy ground. A grave mound lies beside the road And in the distance arises its whitened shape. Aleko burdened with a gruesome load Of forebodings drags there his reluctant feet. His lips are trembling, his knees shake too, He goes on... and suddenly... or is it a dream, Two shadowy figures are suddenly seen And a whispering he hears from the neighbouring tomb, The desecrated mound which is near in the gloom. It's time - One moment wait - It's time my dearest. No, stay, stay. We'll wait till dawn. It's already late. How timid you are in love. One minute! You will destroy me. One minute! If my husband should wake And I'm not there? I am awake. Where are you going? Do not run, both stay. Beside the grave is a fitting place. My darling, run, run away, quick! Stop! Ah, handsome lad, where are you running to? Lie here. Plunges a knife into him. Aleko! I am dying... Aleko, you have killed him. Look, blood is spattered all over you. What have you done? Nothing. Now breathe in his love. No, no, enough. You do not scare me. And all your threats I despise utterly. I curse your murderous hand and eye. Then you too must die! Strikes her. Then loving I die. ........................................................................................................................ The eastern sky with the dawn glows bright. On the fateful tombstone behind the hills Aleko presents a fearsome sight Sitting all bloodied with the knife in his hand In front of him two corpses lie. The murderer's face is grim and ghastly. The gypsies in a timid band Surround him in silence agitatedly. They dig a grave in the earth nearby And the women in grieving procession come To kiss the eyes of the bodies there. The old man sits aside, all alone And gazes on the dead ones where they lie. In the stupor of grief he is struck dumb. The corpses are lifted and then they carry The young couple over to where they shall tarry In the cold earth's bosom for evermore. Aleko sat and watched all from afar And when the last clod of earth had closed The grave, then he slumped and leaning over He silently fell on the grassy floor. Then the old man approached and said to him: "Leave us, you proud, disdainful man! We are savage, and we do not have laws, But we do not torture, and we do not kill. We have no need of blood or groans But to live with a murderer we have no wish. Your lot was not cast to be born with the free, And freedom you wish for only selfishly. Your voice forever would be ghastly to us, We are gentle and our natures are kind, You are brazen and evil, and you must leave us. Farewell, and peace live in your mind". So he spoke, and then in a noisy throng The nomad camp of the gypsies rose And left the valley of their dreadful stay. Their wagons in the distance faded away And vanished; there was one alone With a wretched carpet covered over Which stood in the fateful steppe unmoving. So at times, before the winter's coming, When the morning air is heavy with mist A flock of belated cranes takes flight From the fields, shouting with cries of delight, And heads for the south where the earth is kissed By the sun. But one remains mournfully, Its wounded wing hanging down to the ground, For the hunter's bullet his body has found. The night descends: in the darkened car Nobody rises to kindle a fire, And nobody under the canvas awning Was blessed by sleep till the next day's dawning. EPILOGUE By the magic powers of inspired song, In the darkened corridors of my mind, Some visions arise and linger on Now of happy, and now of a mournful kind. In that region where loud and long the roar Resounded terribly of frenzied war; Where Russian might imperial Defined the boundaries of Stambul, And where our old, two-headed eagle Takes pride still in its glories regal, I met within the steppe's expanse, Along the boundaries of old camps, The peaceful wagons of the gypsies, The children of freedom beneath the skies. Often among their idle throng In vasty wastes I wandered long, Or shared their simple food of bread And beside their campfire made my bed. On their slow journeys I loved to hear The songs they sang, their joyous round, And tender Mariula's name would appear, In my mind, an oft repeated sound. But happiness even there is absent Among you, poor children of Nature's breast, And even beneath a wretched tent Wild, torturing dreams will ruin your rest. And under your nomadic shelters' shades In the wilderness, calamity is unceasing, And everywhere fateful passion invades, And from one's fate there is no releasing. |
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