Рождественские стихи на английском языке

Чем чаще мы общаемся с жителями других стран, тем больше хочется нам россиянам знать о культуре и быте других стран. Однако то что мы видим сейчас в действительности имеет свои корни, знание которых дает лучшее понимание происходящего. Люди, которые изучают в качестве родного или иностранного языка английский, узнают много нового и интересного.


Отличной мотивацией и исторической справкой являются рождественские стихи на английском языке. Многие из этих стихов впоследствии были положены на музыку и стали популярными рождественскими святочными гимнами, которые мы часто слышим в разных фильмах и радиопередачах.


Twas the Night before Christmas


Рождественские стихи, которые идут без музыкального сопровождения не очень хорошо известны, но, тем не менее заслуживают рассмотрения. Самое известное из стихотворений о Рождестве среди перечисленных является "Twas the Night Before Christmas" (в переводе "Это было ночью перед Рождеством"), написанное Клементом Кларком Муром и традиционно исполняется детьми в канун Рождества.




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Клемент Кларк Мур (1779-1863) написал это стихотворение, также ещё называемое “A Visit from St. Nicholas" (в переводе "Визит Святого Николая") в 1822 году. В настоящее время традиция во многих американских семьях есть традиция зачитывать это стихотворение каждый Сочельник. . Оно также позволяет пересмотреть наш взгляд на Рождество и Санта-Клауса. До написания "Twas the Night Before Christmas" Святой Николай, покровитель детей, никогда не был связан с санями или оленями!



Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"



Nativity



Одним из самых ранних поэтов, которого мы включили в нашу статью был Джон Донн, который родился в 1572 году, представлен одним из своих рождественских стихотворений под названием "Nativity" (в переводе "Рождество Христово").



Студвелл описывает стихотворение, как "простое, прямое и искреннее" и отмечает, что это редкий пример гимна который смог преодолеть недостаток неимения мелодии) и которое захватывает воображение слушателей".



Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov d imprisonment,
There He hath made Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into the world to come;
But O, for thee, for Him, hath the inn no room?
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient,
Stars and wise men will travel to prevent
The effect of Herod s jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul, with thy faith s eyes, how He
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie?
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,
That would have need to be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.



Love Came Down at Christmas



"Love Came Down at Christmas" (в переводе "Любовь пришла на Рождество" - рождественское стихотворение Кристины Россетти. Впервые оно было опубликован без названия в сборнике её стихов в "Time Flies: A Reading Diary in 1885". Позднее он был включен в сборник стихов в 1893 году под названием "Святки".



Стихотворение было положено на музыку, как рождественский гимн, многими композиторами, в том числе Гарольдом Дарком, Лео Соверби, Джоном Кенсаллом и Джоном Раттером. Также оно поётся на манер традиционной ирландской мелодии "Гартон".



Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine,
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and Angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine,
Worship we our Jesus,
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

Santa Claus And His Works



Это традиционное стихотворение о Санта-Клаусе был написано Джорджем П. Вебстером и проиллюстрировано выдающимся американским карикатуристом Томасом Настом. Стихотворение "Santa Claus And His Works" было впервые опубликовано в 1869 году в Нью-Йорке.


Эта замечательная рождественская история в рифмах рассказывает историю о том, как веселый Дед Мороз, который живет в Санта-Клаус-вилле в районе Северного полюса, работает круглый год, делая рождественские игрушки для всех хороших мальчиков и девочек во всем мире. Стихотворение представляет собой полное описание Деда Мороза.



This nice little story for Girls and for Boys
Is all about Santa Claus, Christmas and toys.
So gather around me, but speak not a word
For I mean what I say, by you all will be heard.

In a nice little city called Santa Claus-ville,
With its houses and church at the foot of the hill
Lives jolly old Santa Claus; day after day
He works and he whistles the moments away.

You must know, he is honest, and toils for his bread,
And is fat and good-natured with nothing to dread.
His eyes are not red, but they twinkle and shine,
For he never was known to drink brandy or wine;

But day after day at his bench he is found,
For he works for good children hard, all the year round.
Though busy all day he is happy, and sings
While planning and making the funniest things,

Such as wagons and horses, and dishes and ladles,
And soldiers and monkeys, and little dolls cradles.
And garters and socks, and the tiniest shoes,
And lots of nice things such as doll babies use.

(See, the top of his head is all shining and bare –
‘Tis the good men, dear children, who lose all their hair.)
With many things more, for I can not tell half –
But just look at his picture, I’m sure you will laugh,

With trumpets and drummers, farms, sheep, pigs and cattle,
And he makes the pop-guns and the baby’s tin rattle;
Then he takes the new dolls that have long curly hair,
And, setting the table, seats each in a chair,

And he makes them pretend they are taking their tea –
He’s the jolliest fellow you ever did see,
And can make a queer codger jump out of a box,
Or will make with his knife and new parrot or fox,

Or sit with his spectacles over his nose
And work all day long making little dolls clothes,
Such as dresses and sashes, and hats for the head,
And night-gowns to wear when they jump into bed;

With his dog standing near him, and spy-glass in hand,
He looks for good children all over the land.
His home through the long summer months, you must know,
Is near the North Pole, in the ice and the snow.

And when he sees children at work or at play
The old fellow listens to hear what they say;
And if they are gentle, loving and kind,
He finds where they live, and he makes up his mind

That when Christmas shall come in cold frosty December
To give them a call, he will surely remember;
And he’s sure to have with him a bundle of toys
For the nice little girls and the good little boys.

Oh, if you could see him start out with his team
You would doubt your own eyes, and would think it a dream –
Wrapped up in a bear-skin to keep out the cold,
And his sleigh covered over with jewels and gold,

While his deer from the mountains, all harnessed with care,
Like race-horses prance through the cold winter air.
‘Tis fun just to watch them and hear the bells tinkle,
E’en the stars seem to laugh and they look down and twinkle.

And the hungry raccoon and the fox lean and shy
Give a wink as they hear him go galloping by;
For they know by his looks and the crack of him whip,
And his sleigh-load of toys, he is out for a trip.

Then the fox steals the farmer’s old goose for his dinner,
Which you know is not right – but the fox is a sinner,
And his morals are bad and his habits are loose,
For he’s never so gay as when stealing a goose.

Ah! Here is a picture. Oh, children, just look
At the names of the good little girls in his book,
And a long list of names of the good little boys,
Who never disturb Pa and Ma with their noise.

There is Tommy, who tended the baby with care,
He gets some beautiful books for his share;
And Eliza, just think how bright her eyes will twinkle
When she looks in her stockings and finds Rip Van Winkle.

And Georgie, you know, is the five-year-old dandy –
Wont he strut with his pockets all filled up with candy?
There the old fellow stands with a queer knowing look,
Till he has in his mind every name in the book;

And he would be kind to them all if he could,
But he gives his presents to none but the good.
An army he gives to the boy who is neat,
And never cries when he wants something to eat.

And a farm to the boy who goes smiling to school,
Who keeps out of the mud and obeys every rule;
And all the good girls will get presents, we know,
And the boys who behave will have something to show.

When Christmas Eve comes, into bed you must creep,
And late in the night, when you all are asleep
He is certain to come, so your stockings prepare,
And hang them all close to the chimney with care,

And when in the morning you open your eyes
You will meet, I am sure, a most pleasant surprise;
And you’ll laugh and you’ll giggle and call to Mamma,
And keep up the noise till you waken Papa –

And of this for one morning will be very nice,
But the rest of the year be as quiet as mice.
How funny he looks as he stands on the round
And gathers the toys that hang far from the ground.

He is large round the waist, but what care we for that –
‘Tis the good-natured people who always get far.
The grumbling wolf who lies hidden all day,
And the fox that at midnight goes out for his prey,

And the serpent that hides in the foliage green,
And all of them ugly, ill-tempered and lean;
But Santa Claus comes in his queer looking hat,
And we know he’s good-humored because he is fat.

So when you grow up I would not have you slim,
But large round the waist, and good natured like him.
Just think, if the ladder should happen to break
And he should fall down, what a crash it would make;

And that is not all, for besides all the noise,
It would frighten the dolls and would damage the toys.
I told you his home was up north by the Pole:
In a palace of ice lives this happy old soul,

And the walls are as bright as diamonds that shone
In the cave, when Aladdin went in all alone
To look for the lamp we have often been told
Turned iron and lead into silver and gold.

His bedstead is made of ivory white,
And he sleeps on a mattress of down every night;
For all the day long hew is working his best,
And surely at night the old fellow should rest.

He uses no gas, for the glimmerying light
Of the far polar regions shines all through the night.
Should he need for his breakfast a fish or some veal,
The sea-calves are his, and the whale and the seal.

Where he lives there is always a cool pleasant air,
Last summer, oh! Didn’t we wish we were there?
He’s a funny old chap, and quite shy, it would seem,
For I never but once caught a glimpse of is team;

‘Twas a bright moonlight night, and it stood in full view,
And, so you see, I can describe it to you.
See! Christmas has come, and he toils like a Turk,
And now the old fellow is busy at work –

There are presents for Julia and Bettie and Jack,
And a bundle still left on the old fellow’s back,
And if Evrie behaves well and don’t tear his clothes,
And quits teasing the cat, why he will, I suppose,

Find on Christmas a horse or a gun or a sled,
All ready for use when he gets out of bed.
But see he has worked quite enough for to-night,
He must fill all the stockings before it is light.

With his queer looking team through the air he will go,
And alight on the roof, now all white with the snow,
And into the chimney will dart in a trice,
When all are asleep but the cat and the mice;

Then will fill up the stockings with candy and toys,
And all without making the least bit of noise.
When the labors of Christmas are over he goes
Straight home, and takes a full week of repose;

And then when the holyday frolics are o’er,
He goes to his shop and his labors once more,
And all the long year with his paints and his glue,
He is making new toy, little children, for you.

So now I must leave you – but stand in a row –
Come Julia, and Bettie, and Louie, and Joe,
And Gracie, and Fannie, what are you about –
Get ready, I say, for a jolly good shout.

Now, three cheers for Christmas! Give them, boys, with a will!
Three more for the hero of Santa-Clausville;
When know he is old, and bald headed and fat,
But the cleverest chap in the world for all that,

And jollier codger no man ever saw –
But good-bye, merry Christmas, Hip, Hip, Hip Hurrah!


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