Уильям Шекспир — образы, как космогония мифа. William Shakespeare — Images as the Cosmogony of Myth
Шрифт:
«Like as, to make our appetites more keen
With eager compounds we our palate urge,
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge» (118, 1-4).
«Подобно как, сделать наши аппетиты более острыми, (затем)
С помощью нетерпеливых соединений мы наш вкус побуждаем,
Так, незримо предотвращаем наше расстройство, (зная)
Мы заболеваем, избегая болезней, когда мы очищаемся» (118, 1-4).
В строках 1-4, повествующий
Образ «аппетита» первой строки сонета 118 встречается в пьесе Шекспира «Антоний и Клеопатра» во схожем образе «утоления аппетита» иных дам:
— Confer!
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Original text by William Shakespeare «Antony and Cleopatra» Act II, Scene II, 241—243
This text is distributed for nonprofit and educational use only.
«...other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things».
William Shakespeare «Antony and Cleopatra» Act II, Scene II, 241—243.
«...иная женщина пресытившись
Утоляет аппетиты, их подпитывая, но этим она сама создаёт голод
Там, где большее удовлетворенье получает; для самых мерзких вещей».
Уильям Шекспир «Антоний и Клеопатра» акт 2, сцена 2, 241—243.
(Литературный перевод Свами Ранинанда 01.05.2023).
Впрочем, похожий образ из пьесы, как огранённый алмаз обрёл силу перевоплотившись в образ ненасытности Клеопатры, то есть образ «неистощимых желаний», приоткрывающий саму основу «природы человека, созданного богом».
Истинная ценность сценического «шекспировского» образа теряет свою значимость при выдёргивании его из контекста пьесы, поэтому любезно предлагаю читателю для ознакомления и для сравнения расширенный фрагмент пьесы Уильяма Шекспира «Антоний и Клеопатра» акт 2, сцена 2:
— Confer!
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Original text by William Shakespeare «Antony and Cleopatra» Act II, Scene II, line 226—281
This text is distributed for nonprofit and educational use only.
ACT II. SCENE II. Rome. The house of LEPIDUS.
Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS
ENOBARBUS
I will tell you.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion — cloth-of-gold of tissue —
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.
AGRIPPA
O, rare for Antony!
ENOBARBUS
Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.
AGRIPPA
Rare Egyptian!
ENOBARBUS
Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she replied,
It should be better he became her guest;
Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak,
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast,
And for his ordinary pays his heart
For what his eyes eat only.
AGRIPPA
Royal wench!
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.
ENOBARBUS
I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the public street;
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect perfection,
And, breathless, power breathe forth.
MECAENAS
Now Antony must leave her utterly.
ENOBARBUS
Never; he will not:
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.
William Shakespeare