# Вильям Блэйк

Владимир Александрович Гурвич

William Blake

28 November 1757 Soho, London -

12 August 1827 Soho, London

an English poet, painter and print-maker.

Largely unrecognized during his lifetime,

Blake is now considered a seminal figure

in the history of the poetry and visual arts of the Romantic Age.

His prophetic poetry has been said to form

"what is in proportion to its merits the least read body

of poetry in the English language".

His visual artistry led one contemporary art critic to proclaim him

"far and away the greatest artist Britain has ever produced".

In 2002, Blake was placed at number 38 in the BBC's poll of the 100 Greatest Britons.

Although he lived in London his entire life

(except for three years spent in Felpham), he produced

a diverse and symbolically rich oeuvre, which embraced the imagination as

"the body of God" or "human existence itself".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Blake


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A petty, sneaking knave I knew...

O! Mr. Cromek, how do ye do?


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Есть мелкий жулик в Аглии;

Мы с ним знакомы были.

А, Кромек! Ну не странно ль?!

Это Вы ли?!


VG, 7 декабря 2013


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Cromek loves artists as he loves his meat:

He loves the Art; but 'tis the art to cheat.


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Артистов Кромек любит... им на горе.

Искусство ценит он... Искусство - объегорить.


VG, 7 декабря 2013


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Robert Hartley Cromek, 1770-1812

an English engraver, editor, art dealer and entrepreneur

who was most active in the early nineteenth century.

He is best known for having allegedly cheated William Blake

out of the potential profits of his engraving

depicting Chaucer's Canterbury Pilgrims


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When a man has married a wife, he finds out whether

Her knees and elbows are only glued together.


Poems from Blake's Notebook, c. 1800-1803


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Женись на своей невесте

И ты узнаешь точней,

Склеены ли вместе

Коленки и локти у ней.


VG, 17 марта 2014


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When nations grow old,

Their arts grow cold,

And commerce settles on every tree.


William Blake, On Art And Artists, 1800

'On the Foundation of the Royal Academy'


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Чем старше становится нация,

Тем прохладней ее искусство:

Повехностны мысли,

Неискренни чувства,

И лишь на деревьях листья

Шуршат как ассигнации.


VG, 17 марта 2014


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Poems from Blake's Notebook, c. 1791-1792


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I asked a thief to steal me a peach:

He turned up his eyes.

I asked a lithe lady to lie her down:

Holy and meek, she cries.


As soon as I went

An angel came.

He winked at the thief

And smiled at the dame -


And without one word said

Had a peach from the tree,

And still as a maid

Enjoyed the lady.


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А ну, укради-ка мне яблоко, тать!

Возвёл вор глаза к небесам.

Ты киска, не против со мной переспать?

Дала шлюха волю слезам.


И тут (это было как раз в пору)

Явился ангел меж нами

Он улыбнулся приветливо вору

И подмигнул даме.


И мне преподал наглядный урок,

Для поднятия духа

Яблоко из кармана извлёк

И стала девицею шлюха.


VG, 18 марта 2014


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Epitaph on Himself


I was buried near this dyke,

That my friends may weep as much as they like.


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Я погребен у городской канавы водосточной,

Чтоб слезы лить могли друзья и днем и еженочно.


Самуил Маршак


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У дамбы похоронен я,

Чтоб плакать всласть могли друзья.


VG, 1978