Monday, 24 February 2020

Poetry Revisited: Bесна – Spring by Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev


(из книги Стихи и
политические статьи: 1886)

Зима недаром злится,
Прошла ее пора —
Весна в окно стучится
И гонит со двора.

И все засуетилось,
Все нудит Зиму вон —
И жаворонки в небе
Уж подняли трезвон.

Зима еще хлопочет
И на Весну ворчит.
Та ей в глаза хохочет
И пуще лишь шумит…

Взбесилась ведьма злая
И, снегу захватя,
Пустила, убегая,
В прекрасное дитя…

Весне и горя мало:
Умылася в снегу,
И лишь румяней стала,
Наперекор врагу.


Фёдор Иванович Тютчев (1803–1873)
Русский поэт, Диплома́т и государственный деятель


(from Poems and
Political Articles: 1886)

The winter not without reason grows wroth:
Her season is past,
Spring knocks at the window
And drives her out of doors.

And everything has begun to stir,
Everything drives the winter away
And the larks in the sky
Have already raised their chime.

Winter still makes trouble,
And grumbles at the spring,
But she laughs in her face,
And only clamours more.

The angry witch grew furious
And, snatching up the snow,
Threw it, running away,
At the pretty child.

For spring it was but little concern:
She washed herself in the snow,
And became only rosier
In spite of her foe.


Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev (1803–1873)
Russian poet, diplomat and statesman

Translation as published in
B. A. Rudzinsky, Stella Gardiner: Poems
selected from Karamzin, Pushkin, Tyutchev,
Lermontov, Count A. Tolstoy, Nikitin,
Pleshcheyev, Nadson, and Sologub.
H. S. Marshall, London; J. Menzies,
Edinburgh and Glasgow 1917.

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