Иосиф Бродский - Остановка в пустыне
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ОСТАНОВКА В ПУСТЫНЕ
Теперь так мало греков в Ленинграде,
что мы сломали Греческую церковь,
дабы построить на свободном месте
концертный зал. В такой архитектуре
есть что-то безнадежное. А впрочем,
концертный зал на тыщу с лишним мест
не так уж безнадежен: это - храм,
и храм искусства. Кто же виноват,
что мастерство вокальное дает
сбор больший, чем знамена веры?
Жаль только, что теперь издалека
мы будем видеть не нормальный купол,
а безобразно плоскую черту.
Но что до безобразия пропорций,
то человек зависит не от них,
а чаще от пропорций безобразья.
Прекрасно помню, как ее ломали.
Была весна, и я как раз тогда
ходил в одно татарское семейство,
неподалеку жившее. Смотрел
в окно и видел Греческую церковь.
Все началось с татарских разговоров;
а после в разговор вмешались звуки,
сливавшиеся с речью поначалу,
но вскоре - заглушившие ее.
В церковный садик въехал экскаватор
с подвешенной к стреле чугунной гирей.
И стены стали тихо поддаваться.
Смешно не поддаваться, если ты
стена, а пред тобою - разрушитель.
К тому же экскаватор мог считать
ее предметом неодушевленным
и, до известной степени, подобным
себе. А в неодушевленном мире
не принято давать друг другу сдачи.
Потом туда согнали самосвалы,
бульдозеры... И как-то в поздний час
сидел я на развалинах абсиды.
В провалах алтаря зияла ночь.
И я - сквозь эти дыры в алтаре -
смотрел на убегавшие трамваи,
на вереницу тусклых фонарей.
И то, чего вообще не встретишь в церкви,
теперь я видел через призму церкви.
Когда-нибудь, когда не станет нас,
точнее - после нас, на нашем месте
возникнет тоже что-нибудь такое,
чему любой, кто знал нас, ужаснется.
Но знавших нас не будет слишком много.
Вот так, по старой памяти, собаки
на прежнем месте задирают лапу.
Ограда снесена давным-давно,
но им, должно быть, грезится ограда.
Их грезы перечеркивают явь.
А может быть, земля хранит тот запах:
асфальту не осилить запах псины.
И что им этот безобразный дом!
Для них тут садик, говорят вам - садик.
А то, что очевидно для людей,
собакам совершенно безразлично.
Вот это и зовут: "собачья верность".
И если довелось мне говорить
всерьез об эстафете поколений,
то верю только в эту эстафету.
Вернее, в тех, кто ощущает запах.
Так мало нынче в Ленинграде греков,
да и вообще - вне Греции - их мало.
По крайней мере, мало для того,
чтоб сохранить сооруженья веры.
А верить в то, что мы сооружаем,
от них никто не требует. Одно,
должно быть, дело нацию крестить,
а крест нести - уже совсем другое.
У них одна обязанность была.
Они ее исполнить не сумели.
Непаханое поле заросло.
"Ты, сеятель, храни свою соху,
а мы решим, когда нам колоситься".
Они свою соху не сохранили.
Сегодня ночью я смотрю в окно
и думаю о том, куда зашли мы?
И от чего мы больше далеки:
от православья или эллинизма?
К чему близки мы? Что там, впереди?
Не ждет ли нас теперь другая эра?
И если так, то в чем наш общий долг?
И что должны мы принести ей в жертву?
1 поугодие 1966
Stop in the desert
Now so few Greeks in Leningrad,
that we broke the Greek church,
in order to build in a free place
concert hall. In such architecture
There is something hopeless. And however,
Concert Hall for Fresh Seats
Not so hopeless: it is a temple,
and temple of art. Who is to blame
what skill vocal gives
collecting bigger than banners of faith?
It is a pity that now from afar
We will see not a normal dome,
And ugly flat line.
But that before the disgrace of proportions,
then a person does not depend on them,
And more often from the proportions of the ugly.
I remember perfectly, as it broke.
There was spring, and I just then
went to one Tatar family,
Nearby living. Watched
The window and saw the Greek church.
It all started with Tatar conversations;
and after the conversation intervened the sounds,
Murdered with speech at first,
But soon - stunned it.
In the church garden drove an excavator
With the cast-iron girling suspended.
And the walls began to quietly.
Ridiculous not to succumb if you
Wall, and before you - the destroyer.
In addition, the excavator could consider
Its subject is inanimate
and, to a certain extent similar to
yourself. And in an inanimate world
It is not customary to give each other.
Then the dump trucks drove there,
bulldozers ... and somehow later
I sat on the ruins of the aksids.
In the failures of the altar burned the night.
And I - Through these holes in the altar -
looked at fleeing trams,
On a row of dull lamps.
And what you will not meet in the church at all,
Now I have seen through the prism of the church.
Someday when it won't be,
more precisely - after us, in our place
There is also something like that
What anyone who knew us would be terrified.
But they knew us too much.
Like this, on old memory, dogs
There are paws in the same place.
The fence was demolished long ago,
But they must be dreaming fence.
Their dreams crossed out.
Or maybe the land keeps the smell:
Asphalt not to mastered the smell of a pillow.
And what they have this ugly home!
For them there is a kindergarten, tell you the kindergarten.
And what is obvious to people
Dogs are completely indifferent.
This name is: "Dog loyalty."
And if I happened to talk
seriously about the relay of generations,
I believe only in this relay.
Rather, in those who feel the smell.
So little now in Leningrad Greeks,
And in general - outside Greece - there are few of them.
At least little in order
To keep the constructions of faith.
And believe in what we build,
No one demands from them. One
It should be a matter of nation to baptize,
And the cross is to carry - already completely different.
They had one duty.
They failed to fulfill her.
Nonpaja field overgrown.
"You, a sower, keep your dear,
And we will decide when we spy. "
They did not save their horship.
Tonight I look out the window
And I think about where we went?
And from what we are more far away:
From the Orthodox or Hellenism?
What are we close to? What is there ahead?
Does now have another era now?
And if so, then what is our total debt?
And what should we sacrifice her?
1 buggy 1966.
Now so few Greeks in Leningrad,
that we broke the Greek church,
in order to build in a free place
concert hall. In such architecture
There is something hopeless. And however,
Concert Hall for Fresh Seats
Not so hopeless: it is a temple,
and temple of art. Who is to blame
what skill vocal gives
collecting bigger than banners of faith?
It is a pity that now from afar
We will see not a normal dome,
And ugly flat line.
But that before the disgrace of proportions,
then a person does not depend on them,
And more often from the proportions of the ugly.
I remember perfectly, as it broke.
There was spring, and I just then
went to one Tatar family,
Nearby living. Watched
The window and saw the Greek church.
It all started with Tatar conversations;
and after the conversation intervened the sounds,
Murdered with speech at first,
But soon - stunned it.
In the church garden drove an excavator
With the cast-iron girling suspended.
And the walls began to quietly.
Ridiculous not to succumb if you
Wall, and before you - the destroyer.
In addition, the excavator could consider
Its subject is inanimate
and, to a certain extent similar to
yourself. And in an inanimate world
It is not customary to give each other.
Then the dump trucks drove there,
bulldozers ... and somehow later
I sat on the ruins of the aksids.
In the failures of the altar burned the night.
And I - Through these holes in the altar -
looked at fleeing trams,
On a row of dull lamps.
And what you will not meet in the church at all,
Now I have seen through the prism of the church.
Someday when it won't be,
more precisely - after us, in our place
There is also something like that
What anyone who knew us would be terrified.
But they knew us too much.
Like this, on old memory, dogs
There are paws in the same place.
The fence was demolished long ago,
But they must be dreaming fence.
Their dreams crossed out.
Or maybe the land keeps the smell:
Asphalt not to mastered the smell of a pillow.
And what they have this ugly home!
For them there is a kindergarten, tell you the kindergarten.
And what is obvious to people
Dogs are completely indifferent.
This name is: "Dog loyalty."
And if I happened to talk
seriously about the relay of generations,
I believe only in this relay.
Rather, in those who feel the smell.
So little now in Leningrad Greeks,
And in general - outside Greece - there are few of them.
At least little in order
To keep the constructions of faith.
And believe in what we build,
No one demands from them. One
It should be a matter of nation to baptize,
And the cross is to carry - already completely different.
They had one duty.
They failed to fulfill her.
Nonpaja field overgrown.
"You, a sower, keep your dear,
And we will decide when we spy. "
They did not save their horship.
Tonight I look out the window
And I think about where we went?
And from what we are more far away:
From the Orthodox or Hellenism?
What are we close to? What is there ahead?
Does now have another era now?
And if so, then what is our total debt?
And what should we sacrifice her?
1 buggy 1966.
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