Thơ Tình cho LARA - Tuyển tập Thơ trong Tiểu thuyết Bác sĩ Zhivago /Борис Пастернак : Рождественская звезда
















Рождественская звезда

Б.Пастернак
Стояла зима.
Дул ветер из степи.
И холодно было младенцу в вертепе
На склоне холма.

Его согревало дыханье вола.
Домашние звери
Стояли в пещере.
Над яслями тёплая дымка плыла.

Доху отряхнув от постельной трухи
И зёрнышек проса,
Смотрели с утёса
Спросонья в полночную даль пастухи.

Вдали было поле в снегу и погост,
Ограды, надгробья,
Оглобля в сугробе,
И небо над кладбищем, полное звёзд.

А рядом, неведомая перед тем,
Застенчивей плошки
В оконце сторожки
Мерцала звезда по пути в Вифлеем.

Она пламенела, как стог, в стороне
От неба и Бога,
Как отблеск поджога,
Как хутор в огне и пожар на гумне.

Она возвышалась горящей скирдой
Соломы и сена
Средь целой Вселенной,
Встревоженной этою новой звездой.

Растущее зарево рдело над ней
И значило что-то,
И три звездочёта
Спешили на зов небывалых огней.

За ними везли на верблюдах дары.
И ослики в сбруе, один малорослей
Другого, шажками спускались с горы.

И странным виденьем грядущей поры
Вставало вдали всё пришедшее после.
Все мысли веков, все мечты, все миры.
Всё будущее галерей и музеев,
Все шалости фей, все дела чародеев,
Все ёлки на свете, все сны детворы.
Весь трепет затепленных свечек, все цепи,
Всё великолепье цветной мишуры...
...Всё злей и свирепей дул ветер из степи..
...Все яблоки, все золотые шары.

Часть пруда скрывали верхушки ольхи,
Но часть было видно отлично отсюда
Сквозь гнёзда грачей и деревьев верхи.
Как шли вдоль запруды ослы и верблюды,
Могли хорошо разглядеть пастухи.
— Пойдёмте со всеми, поклонимся чуду,—
Сказали они, запахнув кожухи.

От шарканья по снегу сделалось жарко.
По яркой поляне листами слюды
Вели за хибарку босые следы.
На эти следы, как на пламя огарка,
Ворчали овчарки при свете звезды.

Морозная ночь походила на сказку,
И кто-то с навьюженной снежной гряды
Всё время незримо входил в их ряды.
Собаки брели, озираясь с опаской,
И жались к подпаску, и ждали беды.

По той же дороге, чрез эту же местность
Шло несколько ангелов в гуще толпы.
Незримыми делала их бестелесность,
Но шаг оставлял отпечаток стопы.

У камня толпилась орава народу.
Светало. Означились кедров стволы.
— А кто вы такие? — спросила Мария.
— Мы племя пастушье и неба послы,
Пришли вознести вам обоим хвалы.
— Всем вместе нельзя. Подождите у входа.

Средь серой, как пепел, предутренней мглы
Топтались погонщики и овцеводы,
Ругались со всадниками пешеходы,
У выдолбленной водопойной колоды
Ревели верблюды, лягались ослы.

Светало. Рассвет, как пылинки золы,
Последние звёзды сметал с небосвода.
И только волхвов из несметного сброда
Впустила Мария в отверстье скалы.

Он спал, весь сияющий, в яслях из дуба,
Как месяца луч в углубленье дупла.
Ему заменяли овчинную шубу
Ослиные губы и ноздри вола.

Стояли в тени, словно в сумраке хлева,
Шептались, едва подбирая слова.
Вдруг кто-то в потёмках, немного налево
От яслей рукой отодвинул волхва,
И тот оглянулся: с порога на Деву,
Как гостья, смотрела звезда Рождества.









Б. Пастернак "Рождественская звезда"






christmas star

 russian poem by boris pasternak translated for penguin classics anthology

By peter oram	 


CHRISTMAS STAR

http://creating365project.wordpress.com/2013/01/22/day-73-christmas-star-russian-poem-by-boris-pasternak-translated-for-penguin-classics-anthology/
 

By Boris Pasternak (from the “Zhivago poems”),

translated from the Russian by Peter Oram ( translation © peter oram 2013)

 

*

 

A winter’s day.

The winds came howling in across

the plains, and it was

cold in the cave in the hills where the child lay.

 

The breath of an ox kept the cold at bay

for the beasts of the farm

had been stabled there and a warm

haze wafted over his bed of hay.

 

Still half asleep on their rocky protuberances

shepherds brushed off the chaff and seeds which stuck

to their furry coats and looked

out into the midnight distances.

 

Far away a field lay white beneath the snow, with a chapel nearby,

and gravestones and fences, and the shaft

of a cart sticking out of a snowdrift,

and over the cemetery the star-encrusted sky.

 

But one star till now unknown to them

seemed to twinkle close at hand, hesitant as the light

behind the window of a watchman’s hut in the night,

and it showed the way to Bethlehem.

 

Suddenly, as if it would aspire

to rival god and heaven

it flared up like a haystack, like a  haybarn,

flared up like a whole farm set on fire.

 

This blazing straw-bundle broke free

and rose up, crossing all the firmament,

which in turn regarded the ascent

of this new star rather nervously.

 

Shading their eyes from the glowing flame,

summoned by this fire without precedence

which clearly had to have some significance

three astronomers hurriedly came.

 

Behind them were camels laden with gifts, and then small

donkeys in harness, followed by even smaller ones,

came trotting down the hill.

 

And in a strange way one could see the whole

of the future somewhere in the distance,

the thoughts, dreams and worlds of all the centuries, all

future art galleries and museums,

all elfin pranks and wizards’ schemes,

all the Christmas trees in the world, all

children’s dreams, all trembling candle-flames, all paper-chains,

all the magnificence of coloured tinsel …

… how bitter and vicious the wind that blew in from the plains …

… all the apples, the golden balls …

 

Though part of the pond was obscured by alder trees

the shepherds had a clear view of the rest between

the topmost branches and the rookeries,

and the camels and donkeys could be easily seen

as they passed the water’s edge. “Let’s travel with these

others, and find this miracle we mean

to worship,” they said, tightening their furs against the icy breeze.

 

But all this tramping through the snow helped keep

them warm. The prints that their bare feet were marking

shone like mica-slivers in the deep

snow, gleamed like candles, set sheepdogs barking

and made a path which led up to the hut.

 

The frosty night was a fairy tale where some

unnoticed figure every now and then

stepped from the snows to join the rows of men.

The dogs stood by the sheep-boy, nuzzled him,

- yapped, nervous, as though worse was yet to come.

 

And mingling with the crowds in that same land

on those same roads walked many an angel – who,

being bodiless, could not be seen and so

their footprints were all that they left behind.

 

Crowds had gathered by the entrance stone,

as day’s first light revealed the trunks of cedars.

“And who are you?” asked Mary of each one.

“A band of shepherds: the heavens have led us here

to offer both you and your child our praise.”

“You won’t all fit in here: wait by the door.”

 

In the grey and ashy gloom of early morning

the shepherds and the herdsmen stamped about,

Horsemen and men on foot began to shout

And curse each other round the waterspout,

While asses kept on kicking, camels groaning.

 

Day broke, and like hot cinders brushed the last

stars from the sky. Of all the motley crowd

that hoped that Mary would permit them past

the threshold, none but the Magi were allowed.

 

He slept, all radiant, shining like a moonbeam

in some dark hollow, in his oak hay-box.

He needed no furs over him to warm him

for he had donkey’s muzzle, snout of ox.

 

The Magi in the shadows scarcely dared

to speak, until a hand reached from the darkness

on the left side of the little bed of hay

and nudged one of them aside – he turned and saw,

gazing at the Virgin from the doorway

like some special guest, the Christmas Star.

 




Boris Pasternak:

 "The Christmas Star"



One of my favorite writers and poets is Russian Boris Pasternak who passed away in 1960. In 
America, 2008 Jun 25_Castleton, Singita, South Africa_2196 he is probably best known as the 
Nobel Prize winning author of Dr. Zhivago which was made into an epic MGM film by director David 
Lean. However, in Russia he was better known for his magnificent poetry. It was poetry more than 
prose that won Pasternak the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1958 - an award which the Soviets 
refused to allow him to accept in person.


At this time of year, I love his poem "The Christmas Star". The piece is so beautiful in its simplicity. 
Have a wonderful holiday!



CHRISTMAS STAR

A wind was blowing from the steppe
In that deep wintertide
Where in a cold cave slept a child
Upon the curved hillside.

An ox's breath was all his warmth
And every farmyard beast
Beneath the warm haze of the cave
Was stabled and at rest;

While, shaking hay-seed from their coats
Which they drew round them tight,
Some drowsy shepherds from their rock
Gazed far into the night

At fences, and a field in snow,
A cart snowed up for hours,
A cemetery, and over it
A heavenful of stars.

And, shyer than a watchman's light,
Nor till now seen by them,
A star rose shining on its way
That led to Bethlehem.

It flamed out like a haystack, far
Away from God and sky,
As though it were a farm ablaze,
A fire sparkling high

Which rose up like a flaming rick
Of burning thatch and hay
Amid a startled universe
That saw the new star's way









Ryabov. Christmas Star - Symphonic Fresco for Full Orchestra, 

Children's Choir and Actor (Poem by Boris Pasternak) 
Op. 43.

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - Boys Choir "Debut"
Grand Hall Moscow Conservatory, December 2011
Arthur Arnold - Conductor

 
 
 
 


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