Gerard Manley Hopkins: Все стихи поэта

Все стихи Оригиналы Переводы

« ‹ 1 2 3 4 5 › »

Hope Holds to Christ

Hope holds to Christ the mind’s own mirror out

To take His lovely likeness more and more.

It will not well, so she would bring about

An ever brighter burnish than before

And turns to wash it from her welling eyes

And breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs.

Her glass is blest but she as good as blind

Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there;

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Brothers

How lovely the elder brother’s

Life all laced in the other’s,

Lóve-laced!—what once I well

Witnessed; so fortune fell.

When Shrovetide, two years gone,

Our boys’ plays brought on

Part was picked for John,

Young Jóhn: then fear, then joy

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Spring

Nothing is so beautiful as spring —

When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;

Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush

Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring

The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;

The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush

The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush

With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Loss Of The Eurydice

The Eurydice—it concerned thee, O Lord:

Three hundred souls, O alas! on board,

Some asleep unawakened, all un-

warned, eleven fathoms fallen

Where she foundered! One stroke

Felled and furled them, the hearts of oak!

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

No Worst, There Is None Pitched Past Pitch Of Grief

No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,

More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, wilder wring.

Comforter, where, where is your comforting?

Mary, mother of us, where is your relief?

My cries heave, herds-long; huddle in a main, a chief

Woe, world-sorrow; on an age-old anvil wince and sing—

Then lull, then leave off. Fury had shrieked 'No ling-

ering! Let me be fell: force I must be brief'.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

My Own Heart Let Me More Have Pity on

My own heart let me more have pity on; let

Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,

Charitable; not live this tormented mind

With this tormented mind tormenting yet.

I cast for comfort I can no more get

By groping round my comfortless, than blind

Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find

Thirst 's all-in-all in all a world of wet.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Duns Scotus's Oxford

Towery city and branchy between towers;

Cuckoo-echoing, bell-swarmèd, lark charmèd, rook racked, river-rounded;

The dapple-eared lily below thee; that country and town did

Once encounter in, here coped and poisèd powers;

Thou hast a base and brickish skirt there, sours

That neighbour-nature thy grey beauty is grounded

Best in; graceless growth, thou hast confounded

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Andromeda

Now Time’s Andromeda on this rock rude,

With not her either beauty’s equal or

Her injury’s, looks off by both horns of shore,

Her flower, her piece of being, doomed dragon’s food.

Time past she has been attempted and pursued

By many blows and banes; but now hears roar

A wilder beast from West than all were, more

Rife in her wrongs, more lawless, and more lewd.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.

What hours, O what black hours we have spent

This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!

And more must, in yet longer light's delay.

With witness I speak this. But where I say

Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament

Is cries countless, cries like dead letters sent

To dearest him that lives alas! away.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Inversnaid

This darksome burn, horseback brown,

His rollrock highroad roaring down,

In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam

Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth

Turns and twindles over the broth

Of a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning,

It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Heaven--Haven: A Nun Takes The Veil

I have desired to go

Where springs not fail,

To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail

And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be

Where no storms come,

Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,

And out of the swing of the sea.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Caged Skylark

As a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage,

Man's mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells —

That bird beyond the remembering h{'i}s free fells;

This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life's age.

Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage

Both sing somet{'i}mes the sweetest, sweetest spells,

Yet both droop deadly s{'o}metimes in their cells

Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.

by Gerard Manley Hopkins