книги / Основы английской фонетики для будущих переводчиков
..pdfAnd on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!
“London”
(William Blake)
I wandered through each chartered street, Near where the chartered Thames does flow, A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every man, In every infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban,
The mind–forged manacles I hear:
How the chimney–sweeper's cry Every blackening church appalls, And the hapless soldier's sigh Runs in blood down palace–walls.
But most, through midnight streets I hear How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new–born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage–hearse.
“Perfect Woman”
(William Wordsworth)
She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment’s ornament;
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Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn
From Maytime and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay. I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good For human nature’s daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d,
To warm, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
“Leisure”
(W.H. Davies)
What is this life, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare? No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows.
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No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began,
A poor life this is, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Poetry from the USA
“O Captain! My Captain!” (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;
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Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
“Success is counted sweetest”
(Emily Dickinson)
Success is counted sweetest By those who ne'er succeed. To comprehend a nectar Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple Host Who took the Flag today Can tell the definition
So clear of victory
As he defeated – dying – On whose forbidden ear The distant strains of triumph Burst agonized and clear!
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
(Robert Frost)
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow. The little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,
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And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
“A Dream Within A Dream” (Edgar Allan Poe)
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow –– You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar
Of a surf–tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand –– How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep –– while I weep! O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
“The Arrow and the Song” (H.W. Longfellow)
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight.
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I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend.
“’Twas the night before Christmas”
(Clement Clarke Moore)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all thro' the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar plums danc'd in their heads,
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, Gave the luster of mid–day to objects below; When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call'd them by name: "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen, "On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen;
"To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall! "Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
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As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house–top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys and St. Nicholas too: And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound: He was dress'd all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys was flung on his back,
And he look'd like a peddler just opening his pack:
His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples — how merry, His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly:
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laugh'd when I saw him in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And fill'd all the stockings; then turn'd with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew, like the down of a thistle: But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight. Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
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