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Жёлтые звёзды и лёд

Я далека как заглубь неба меж облаками,
а ты далёк как заглубь корня и рана,
и я далека как поезд вечером, далека
как не слышимый, или забытый тобою свист.
Ты далёк как испуганный всем
невообразимый зверь в вечной норе.
Я далека как цикады и акриды,
а ты далёк как чистейшая стрела,
пронзившая ветер на свет на фоне берёз.
Я далека как сон рек, красящих
заглубь неба меж облаками, а ты
далёк как выдумка, и я далека как память.

Ты далёк как лава красного мрамора,
где дети режут стопы о камни и кричат.
А я далека как их счастливые матери,
белящие новые холсты на траве
и поющие: "Ты далёк как другая жизнь,
как другая жизнь ты далёк".
И я далека как бесконечная азбука
из жёлтых звёзд и льда,
а ты далёк как ногти мертвеца,
далёк как взгряд моряка в полночь,
когда он пьян, а луна — пустая чаша, и ты
далёк как выдумка, а я далека как память.

Я далека как углы комнаты,
где никто никогда не молвил,
далека как четыре забытые стороны света.
И ты далёк как гласье немого,
как расплющенные руки святых и солдат,
как алое крыло дрозда-самоубийцы;
я дальше и дальше от тебя.
А ты далёк как конь без седока,
могущий скакать шесть лет, два месяца и пять дней.
Я далека как тот всадник,
трущий глаза мозолистыми руками м видящий 
как призрак облачается в  его кафтан и башмаки,
всадник, оставшийся нагим в пути. 
Далека как простор между словом и словом,
как сытый сон совершенно любимой,
и сирены войн, которые никто не помнит;
а ты далёк как выдумка, и я далека как память.

Сьюзен Стюарт
перевод с английского Терджимана Кырымлы


Yellow Stars and Ice

I am as far as the deepest sky between clouds
and you are as far as the deepest root and wound,
and I am as far as a train at evening,
as far as a whistle you can't hear or remember.
You are as far as an unimagined animal
who, frightened by everything, never appears.
I am as far as cicadas and locusts
and you are as far as the cleanest arrow
that has sewn the wind to the light on
the birch trees. I am as far as the sleep of rivers
that stains the deepest sky between clouds,
you are as far as invention, and I am as far as memory.

You are as far as a red-marbled stream
where children cut their feet on the stones
and cry out. And I am as far as their happy
mothers, bleaching new linen on the grass
and singing, "You are as far as another life,
as far as another life are you."
And I am as far as an infinite alphabet
made from yellow stars and ice,
and you are as far as the nails of the dead man,
as far as a sailor can see at midnight
when he's drunk and the moon is an empty cup,
and I am as far as invention and you are as far as memory.

I am as far as the corners of a room where no one
has ever spoken, as far as the four lost corners
of the earth. And you are as far as the voices
of the dumb, as the broken limbs of saints
and soldiers, as the scarlet wing of the suicidal
blackbird, I am farther and farther away from you.
And you are as far as a horse without a rider
can run in six years, two months and five days.
I am as far as that rider, who rubs his eyes with
his blistered hands, who watches a ghost don his
jacket and boots and now stands naked in the road.
As far as the space between word and word,
as the heavy sleep of the perfectly loved
and the sirens of wars no one living can remember,
as far as this room, where no words have been spoken,
you are as far as invention, and I am as far as memory.

Susan Stewart