Male C. Pig a.k.a. Svinopolist (piggymouse) wrote,
Male C. Pig a.k.a. Svinopolist
piggymouse

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Выписки: Dedication of Dowson's first book

С июня хотел выписать. Посвящение той самой дочке понаехавшего владельца точки дешёвого общепита (think Turkish-owned sleazy kebab joint), в которую Доусон имел несчастье влюбиться и которая позже совершенно благоразумно вышла замуж за соседа-парикмахера, а также часто цитируемое, одно из самых у Доусона популярных, первое стихотворение сборника.

Этакий памятник мужской неадекватности и женской практичности.

In Preface: For Adelaide

To you, who are my verses, as on some very future day, if you ever care to read them, you will understand, would it not be somewhat trivial to dedicate any one verse, as I may do, in all humility, to my friends? Trivial, too, perhaps, only to name you even here? Trivial, presumptuous? For I need not write your name for you at least to know that this and all my work is made for you in the first place, and I need not to be reminded by my critics that I have no silver tongue such as were fit to praise you. So for once you shall go indedicate, if not quite anonymous; and I will only commend my little book to you in sentences far beyond my poor compass which will help you perhaps to be kind to it:

“Votre personne, vos moindres mouvements me semblaient avoir dans le monde une importance extrahumaine. Mon coeur comme de la poussière se soulevait derrière vos pas. Vous me faisiez l'effet d'un clair-de-lune par une nuit d'été, quand tout est parfums, ombres douces, blancheurs, infini; et les délices de la chair et de l'âme étaient contenues pour moi dans votre nom que je me répétais en tachant de le baiser sur mes lèvres.”

“Quelquefois vos paroles me reviennent comme un écho lointain, comme le son d'une cloche apporté par le vent; et il me semble que vous êtes là quand je lis des passages de l'amour dans les livres… Tout ce qu'on y blâme d'exagéré, vous me l'avez fait ressentir.”

Pont-Aven, Finistère, 1896.

* * *

Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter.
    Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
    We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
    Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes
    Within a dream.
Tags: dowson, poetry, quote
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