Мой Капитан! Мой Капитан!



Памяти Бори Немцова

Мой Капитан! Мой Капитан! Ещё не пройден путь;
Корабль в камнях и кровь в волнах, и рано отдохнуть
Но близок порт, команда ждёт и колокол звенит
Час боли всех и горя - всех и ярости зенит

Но сердце! Сердце! Сердце!
Сочится красным кровь
Мой капитан на палубе
Он холоден и мёртв

Мой Капитан! Мой Капитан! Проснись, услышь, постой;
Они зовут и ждут тебя, идя живой волной
Восстань опять, твой вьётся флаг, твой горн опять поёт
Цветы и ленты для тебя и ждёт тебя народ

Мой Капитан! Мой брат, мой друг
Рука под головой
На палубе упал ты вдруг
Иль это сон дурной?

Мой Капитан молчит, молчит; бледны его уста
Ни жизни нет, ни пульса нет, но будто лишь устал.
Корабль штормит, корабль в беде; ещё не пройден путь
Мой Капитан, корабль в камнях и рано отдохнуть

Пройду я горестной тропой
Под плач колоколов
На палубе немой, пустой
Мой Капитан, он - мёртв.

M.N.

Свободный перевод: Walt Whitman  O Captain! My Captain!


BY WALT WHITMAN
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            This arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
Source: Leaves of Grass (David McKay, 1891)

walt whitman captain poem - GS


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