Пол Андерсон
Баллада притворного приверженца[1]
И плыли они вдоль долгого песчаного берега. И пришли к мысу. И нашли там киль корабля. И назвали то место мысом Киля. А берег тот назвали Удивительным, так долго они вдоль него плыли.
Так начинается сага Эрика Красного о морском путешествии Торфина Карлсефни к Винланду.
--
Poul Anderson, "Ballade of an Artificial Satellite", 1958.
Перевод О. Кутуминой и О. Сидоровой.
В сб. "Пришельцы с Земли", М.: Сигма-пресс, Ангарск: Амбер, Лтд., 1996 г.
Первая публикация в журнале "The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction", October 1958[2]
1
Название — "Ballade of an Artificial Satellite", конечно переводится как "Баллада об искусственном спутнике". Перевод не из лучших, а название переводчицы, похоже вообще не поняли, но другого перевода, к сожалению, до сих пор нет… (прим. OCR)
См. оригинальный текст:
Ballade of an Artificial Satellite
Thence they sailed far to the southward along the land, and came to a ness; the land lay upon the right; there were long and sandy strands. They rowed to land, and found there upon the ness the keel of a ship, and called the place Keeless, and the strands they called Wonderstrands for it took a long time to sail by them.
Thorfinn Karlsefni’s Voyage to Vinland
One inland summer I walked through rye,
a wind at my heels that smelled of rain
and harried white clouds through a whistling sky
where the great sun stalked and shook his mane
and roared so brightly across the grain
it burned and shimmered like alien sands.-
Ten years old, I saw down a lane
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
In ages before the world ran dry,
what might the mapless not contain?
Atlantis gleamed like a dream to die,
Avalon lay under faerie reign,
Cibola guarded a golden plain,
Tir-nan-Og was fair-locked Fand’s,
sober men saw from a gull’s-road wain
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
Such clanging countries in cloudland lie;
but men grew weary and they grew sane
and they grew grown — and so did I —
and knew Tartessus was only in Spain.
No galleons called at Taprobane
(Ceylon, with English); no queenly hands
wear gold from Punt; nor sees the Dane
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
Ahoy, Prince Andros Horizen’s-bane!
They always wait, the elven lands.
An evening planet gives again
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.
2
Обложка журнала "The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction", October 1958