The Complete Poems. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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      Of your yellow bark, O Birch-tree!

      Growing by the rushing river,

      Tall and stately in the valley!

      I a light canoe will build me,

      Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,

      That shall float on the river,

      Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,

      Like a yellow water-lily!

       "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-tree!

      Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,

      For the Summer-time is coming,

      And the sun is warm in heaven,

      And you need no white-skin wrapper!"

       Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

      In the solitary forest,

      By the rushing Taquamenaw,

      When the birds were singing gayly,

      In the Moon of Leaves were singing,

      And the sun, from sleep awaking,

      Started up and said, "Behold me!

      Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me!"

       And the tree with all its branches

      Rustled in the breeze of morning,

      Saying, with a sigh of patience,

      "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"

       With his knife the tree he girdled;

      Just beneath its lowest branches,

      Just above the roots, he cut it,

      Till the sap came oozing outward;

      Down the trunk, from top to bottom,

      Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,

      With a wooden wedge he raised it,

      Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.

       "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!

      Of your strong and pliant branches,

      My canoe to make more steady,

      Make more strong and firm beneath me!"

       Through the summit of the Cedar

      Went a sound, a cry of horror,

      Went a murmur of resistance;

      But it whispered, bending downward,

      'Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"

       Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,

      Shaped them straightway to a framework,

      Like two bows he formed and shaped them,

      Like two bended bows together.

       "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!

      Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-tree!

      My canoe to bind together,

      So to bind the ends together

      That the water may not enter,

      That the river may not wet me!"

       And the Larch, with all its fibres,

      Shivered in the air of morning,

      Touched his forehead with its tassels,

      Slid, with one long sigh of sorrow.

      "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"

       From the earth he tore the fibres,

      Tore the tough roots of the Larch-tree,

      Closely sewed the bark together,

      Bound it closely to the frame-work.

       "Give me of your balm, O Fir-tree!

      Of your balsam and your resin,

      So to close the seams together

      That the water may not enter,

      That the river may not wet me!"

       And the Fir-tree, tall and sombre,

      Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,

      Rattled like a shore with pebbles,

      Answered wailing, answered weeping,

      "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"

       And he took the tears of balsam,

      Took the resin of the Fir-tree,

      Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,

      Made each crevice safe from water.

       "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!

      All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!

      I will make a necklace of them,

      Make a girdle for my beauty,

      And two stars to deck her bosom!"

       From a hollow tree the Hedgehog

      With his sleepy eyes looked at him,

      Shot his shining quills, like arrows,

      Saying with a drowsy murmur,

      Through the tangle of his whiskers,

      "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"

       From the ground the quills he gathered,

      All the little shining arrows,

      Stained them red and blue and yellow,

      With the juice of roots and berries;

      Into his canoe he wrought them,

      Round its waist a shining girdle,

      Round its bows a gleaming necklace,

      On its breast two stars resplendent.

       Thus the Birch Canoe was builded

      In the valley, by the river,

      In the bosom of the forest;

      And the forest's life was in it,

      All its mystery and its magic,

      All СКАЧАТЬ