Edgar Allan Po temirbek inglizchadan Faxriyor tarjimasi

Edgar Allan Po
TEMIRBEK
Inglizchadan Faxriyor tarjimasi

Edgar Allan Po (Edgar Allan Poe; 1809.19.1, Boston — 1849, 7.10, Baltimor) — amerika romantik yozuvchisi va adabiy tanqidchisi. G’arbdagi simvolizm oqimi boshlovchisi. Aktyorlar oilasida tug’ilgan. 1815-20 yillarda Buyuk Britaniyada yashagan. 1825 yili Virginiya universitetiga kirgan, Uest-Poynt harbiy akademiyasi (1830-33)da o’qigan. Asosan, fojiali, «dahshatli» («Qora mushuk» va boshq.), fantastik («Qarg’a va boshqa she’rlar», 1845) yoki yumoristik novellalar («Grotesklar va arabeskalar» to’plami, 1840) klassigi. Po g’arb detektiv adabiyotining asoschilaridan («Morg ko’chasidagi krtillik», 1841; «Mari Roje siri», 1842; «Tilla qo’ng’iz», 1843; «O’g’irlangan maktub», 1845). Uning yetuk lirikasida mahbubasidan judo bo’lgan kishining iztiroblari mavzui o’z ifodasini topgan («Annabel Li», 1849 va b.). Shafqatsizlik, yovuzkorlik P. hikoyalarida inson tabiatidagi hayvoniy hirslarning tantanasi tarzida talqin etilgan. Po jamiyat hayoti, kishilar tabiati va ruhiyatidagi yemirilish hollarini tasvirlar ekan, hajviy va ijtimoiy-tanqidiy qarashdan ham samarali foydalangan. «Ijod falsafasi» (1845), «Poetik printsip» (1850) falsafiy asarlari bilan shimoliy amerika estetikasi rivojiga munosib hissa qo’shgan. Poning detektiv hikoya janrida orttirgan tajribalari A. K. Doyl, R. L. Stivenson, G. Chesterson singari ingliz adabiyoti vakillari ijodida an’ana sifatida foydalanildi;
Amerika adabiyotida butunlay yangi uslub yarata olgan Edgar Po garchi o’z vatandoshlari tomonidan tan olinmagan bo’lsa-da,mashhur frantsuz shoiri Sharl` Bodler tomonidan qilingan tarjimalardan keyin uning jahon adabiyotiga, eng avvalo g’arb simvolizm oqimiga ko’rsatgan beqiyos ta’siri yuzaga keldi. She’riy ijodi frantsuz va rus simvolistlariga ta’sir ko’rsatgan. Asarlari o’zbek tiliga tarjima kilingan («Tilla qo’ng’iz», 1962). Edgar Poning 1827 yilda nashr etilgan «Temirbek» dostoni internet tarmog’ida o’zbek tilida ilk marta taqdim etilmoqda.

Ota, yaqinlashar qazo soati,
Yupanchdan na foyda? U kor qilsaydi?
Sen qilgan na tavba va na bir toat
Kibr gunohini yuva olsaydi?
Na umid bor endi va na bir havas,
Barisi tugadi, barisi abas.
Ichimda o’t yonar, bo’g’zimda zorim,
Umid — ehtiroslar jazavasidir.
Qani o’sha umid, parvardigorim?
Uning sarchashmasi qudsiy aslida.
Asli hamoqatga mansub emassan
Va, seni umidli qildim, demassan?
Havoyi kibrdan sharafsizlikka
G’arq bo’lgan ruh sirin ochaman senga.
O, yurak! Merosdir ko’klarga chiqqan
Va so’ngan shuhratning bir cheti menga.
Olmosday u taxtim toshlari ichra
Yaraqlab so’ng so’nib qoldi bir kuni.
Do’zaxmi? Qo’rqita olmaydi sira,
Valekin qayg’umning yo’qdir bo’y-eni
Bemahal so’ligan gullarim uchun,
Yozdagi oftobli kunlarim uchun.
O’shal o’lik damning boqiy sadosi
Jaranglab turadi — jodu tarzi bor,
Mening bo’m-bo’sh jussam – baxtning gadosi –
Uzra dafn jomi singari takror.
Holim bundan xarob bo’lmagan ortiq,
Bir vaqt boshimdagi tojni, yo nabiy! —
Jangu jadallarda olgandim tortib.
Qaysar Rimga voris bo’lgani kabi
U tortiq bo’lmagan menga hech zamon.
Shohona zakovat va yana, rosti,
Bani bashar ila g’olib, beomon
Mag’rur savashgan ruh menga merosmi?
Tog’ yoqlarda kun kechirdim dastavval,
Taklay rutubati bosh uzra mudom
Shudring bo’lib inar edi har oqshom.
Angladim, ishondim, harbu zarb, amal
Va isyonning g’ulg’ulali havosi
Dimoqqa urmishdir – yo’qdir davosi.
Shudringlar jannatdan kech inmish, egam,
(Mudhish tunning aloq-chaloq tushlari)
Boshim jahannamga ketganday tegib,
Yorug’likning laxcha cho’g’, otashlari
Bulutdan osilib turdi yalovday
Nim yumuq ko’zlarim oldida pir-pir.
Saltanatning bo’yi basti – olovday
Va momoqaldiroq gumburi bir-bir
Ustimga bostirib kelar, qaranglar,
Jangu jadallardan bergancha darak.
Men – jinni bolaning sasi jaranglar
(O, ruhim zavqlarga to’ladi – karaxt,
Irg’ishlab hayqirar shodon, begidir)
Janglar g’alabaning hayqirig’idir.
Panohsiz boshimga yomg’ir yog’di, ko’r
Va og’ir shamollar esdan og’dirdi,
Tilimni lol qildi, ko’zlarimni – ko’r,
Go’yo odam edi, boshga yog’dirdi
Dafna – zafar yaproqlarin birma-bir.
Muz havoning shitob oqimi chirik
Saltanat to’zg’ishi hamda bir asir
Iltijosin, talab ahlin shiviri
Hamda shoh taxtining poyidan oqqan
Xushomad ohangin chaldi quloqqa.
Men taxtga o’tirgan chog’im “G’azabi
Uning istibdodin ming chandon qilar”,
Deb o’ylar raiyat mute, asabiy,
Nachora, balki u fe’limni bilar.
Bolalik chog’larim bir qiz bor edi,
U qiz voqif edi ko’nglimdan, ota.
Mening sirlarimdan xabardor edi
(Yoshlik ketib, so’nar dildagi otash).
Ammo tosh yurakning bir kunjagi bor,
U nozik hislarga, bir ayolga zor.
Afsuski, muhabbat sirini ochmoq
Uchun kerak so’zning barisi puchmoq!
Go’zallik! Tavsifga ojizdir qalam,
Ta’rifga so’zlarni tashlasang qalab –
Foydasiz. Guldayin ruxsori uning
Shamolda soyaday lipillar kunin:
Shu taxlit eslayman yoshlik yillarin,
Lek yodim qodirmas kun o’tgan sari
Ochmoqlikka uning sahifalarin.
Ko’zdan qochib borar nomalar nari,
To’zg’itib o’chirar zamonlar barin!
Men uni suyardim jondan ham ortiq,
U ham menga doim parvona erdi.
Parilar ham havas qilguday tortiq –
Suymoqlik baxtini shu hayot berdi.
Uning gul andomi kabi bokira
Orzu-umidlarim tin bilmay sira
Xuddi manqal uzra ko’kka chirmashgan
Tutunday tik o’rlar edi botindan
Va dilni qaytadan o’tlarga tashlab.
Nahot orzu-umid chiqdi yodimdan?
Ikkimiz tengqur va muhabbatdan mast,
O’sdik dala tuzu to’qaylar kezib.
Mening ko’ksim unga qalqon bo’ldi, rost,
Shamol turgan, yomg’ir yoqqanda ezib.
Oftob charaqlagan kezlar, osmonga
Tikilgan damlarda jannat bog’larin
Uning ko’zlarida ko’rardim, jonga
Rohat bag’ishlardi bahor chog’lari.
Norasta ishqning ilk sabog’i – yurak:
Oftobday charaqlab, tabassum qilib,
Dilga orom berar edi ul malak.
Qizning sho’xliklari ila mast bo’lib
Men uning ko’ksiga o’zimni otar
Va ko’zim yoshlari bilan so’ylardim,
Na so’z hojat edi. Na bir xavotir,
Na uning qo’rquvi dafin o’ylardim.
U sokin nigohin tikkancha menga
Qo’rquv sababini so’rmasdi. Nega?
Bir kuni sevgidan qudratli xilqat –
Kurashlar istagan ruh kirdi tilga
Men tog’ cho’qqisida o’ltirgan chog’im,
Jismimga tor keldi ishqning quchog’i.
Angladim: chorlardi ulkan maqsadlar
Meni kengliklarga. Yer, havo, dengiz
Ehtiros gumonu shodlik, dardlarga
Lim-lim to’la edi, toshguday, tengsiz.
Meni chorlar edi g’aroyib ulgi –
Orzularning xira sharpasi qurg’ur.
Tiyra bir mavjudlik – yo’qliklar mulki –
(Soyalar va ajib g’ira-shira nur)
Oqimtir qanotin yozdi va birdan
Sening suvrating va go’zal otingga
Aylanib qoldilar. Ikkisi ham tan
emas, dil mahramim, suygan, botingan.
Otajon, yulduzni ko’zlagan edim,
Ehtiros senga yot bo’lgani bor gap.
Men – cho’pon toju taxt izlagan edim
Bepoyon dunyoning yarmini so’rab.
Omadsiz qur’adan bo’lmadim rozi,
Axir, go’zallikning nurli taftidan
Tush misol eng ulug’ maqsadlar ozib,
Tonggi shudring kabi yitar. Aftidan,
Faqat bir go’zallik soat, kun sayin
Menga kuch berardi takror va tayin.
Ikkov cho’qqilarda sayr etdik birga,
Tog’lar makon etib yuqorilikni
Kulbalar bilanki qurshalgan qirlar,
cho’qqilar, o’rmonlar osha borliqni
tomosha qilardi, poyida ensiz
jilg’alar chuldirab oqardi tinsiz.
Men unga shuhrat va hokimiyatdan
So’zladim. Ko’zlari tanish ehtiros
Va najib intilish bilan uyatchan
Yonardi. Tuyg’ular uyqashligi rost.
Uning yonoqlari ollanishlari
Har qandayin taxtga edi munosib.
Nozu ishvalari, sollanishlari
Nur kabi zulmatni ketardi bosib.
So’ngra dabdabalar ichida qoldim,
Xayoliy toj kiydim boshimga shodon.
Egnimga yopilgan libosni oldin
Orzu ham qilmagan edim. Olomon
Ichra bandi sherday zo’rlik istagi
Xo’jasiga sajda qilardi tinsiz.
Lekin sahroda u fitnalar qistab,
Dunyoga o’t qo’yar edi o’tinsiz.
Zamin malikasi, dilbar Samarqand
Jahon taqdiriga egalik qilar.
Barcha shaharlardan mag’rur va baland,
Shuhratda u bilan bellasha olar,
Ayting, qaysi shahar, ayting, qaysi kent?
Na uning tengi bor va na bor misli,
Uning oddiy toshi dunyodagi eng
Zo’r taxt uchun bo’lar shohsupa asli.
Shahar hukmdori kim, deb so’rsangiz,
Javobim Temurdir, hayron lak nafar
Omma ko’z o’ngida turar, ko’rsangiz,
Yakson saltanatlar uzra muzaffar.
O, sevgi! Insonga xos samoviy his,
Qalblarga indirding ilohiy visol
Garmsel qaqshatgan taqir va suvsiz
Zaminga yomg’irlar yoqqani misol.
Yovvoyi hislarni yurakka solding,
Biroq bu tashnalik qonmasdan qoldi.
YO falak! G’ayricha musiqa uni,
Borliq og’ushiga cho’madi uning.
Bokira go’zallik cho’kib borar jim,
Alvido! Qolmadi olmagan yerim.
Sorday makon tutgan yuksaklar mulkin
Umid tog’lar ham past bo’lgan samodan
Horg’in qanotlarin bemajol silkib
Uya tomon qarab qo’yar damodam.
Botib borayotgan yozgi quyoshning
Shafaq nurlariga tikilgan zor-zor
Kunduzdan umidvor keksayu yoshning
Qalbiga cho’kadi zulmatli ozor.
Bir vaqt o’zing suygan tun sovushiga
Yurakning nafrati yuz emas, minglar,
Yurak tinglab urar zulmat tovushin
(Buni faqat ruhi uyg’oqlar tinglar).
Kimki tushda uchsa tag’in va tag’in,
O’ngda yerdan uza olmas oyog’in.
Tunlari porlagan sohibjamol oy
Go’zallik taxtiga chiqolmas kunduz.
Uning xira tortib qolgan chiroyi
Nur socha olmaydi, tabassumi – muz.
Marhumning o’limdan so’nggi rasmiday
Kunduzgi xunuk oy tunlar xasmidir.
Yozgi oftob kabi chaqnoq bolalik
Sekin so’nib borar. Ko’ngil nolali.
Bilgan narsalarni bilmoqlik uchun
Ba’zan isrof bo’lar yigitlik kuchi.
Neni e’zozlasang, mo’rt chiqar, hayhot:
Qoq tushda barq urib ochilgan gulning –
Yaprog’i singari to’kilar hayot,
Qo’lidan nima ham kelardi qulning?
Uyimga qaytdim-u, bir tuyg’u ezdi:
Qadrdon uyimning begonaligi!
Garchi uy ichini ohista kezdim,
Unutib sho’xlik va devonaligim,
Lekin tosh ostona yubordi ingrab,
O’shaning ovozin tanidim tinglab.
O, do’zax! Kuchliroq edi ming karra
Sening otashingdan sog’inchim, zarra
Omonlik yo’q uning o’tidan, yo rab!
Otajon! Bilaman, o’lim bir kuni
Meni ham olisdan izlab keladi.
Hech kim alday olmas hech qachon uni,
O’lim haqligini hamma biladi.
Temir darvozasi nim ochiq turar,
Uning tirqishidan abadiyatning
Haqiqat nurlari ko’zimga urar,
Sen buni ko’rmaysan, urinmagin ming…
Har banda yo’liga Iblis birma-bir
Qopqonin qo’yadi, tushasan oxir.
Sevgining muqaddas ibodatgohi
Sari yo’lim tushdi bir kuni ilkis.
Unda men axtargan sevgi – iloha
Oq, oppoq va momiq qanotin silkib
Gurillatar edi qurbonlik o’tin,
Atrofni qopladi muattar tutun.
Ilohiy nur yog’ar edi bir ochiq
Tirqishdan shovullab yalang va yalang.
Bu nur – bu nigohdan qutular qochib,
Naki mo»jaz chivin va na zarra chang.
Nogoh nur bazmiga Kibr oralab
Ustimdan kuldi u, masxara etdi
So’ng bilmay bormog’in kimni qoralab,
Muhabbat hissiga qo’shilib ketdi.

Edgar Allan Poe
TAMERLAN (1827)

Kind solace in a dying hour!
Such, father, is not (now) my theme-
I will not madly deem that power
Of Earth may shrive me of the sin
Unearthly pride hath revell’d in-
I have no time to dote or dream:
You call it hope-that fire of fire!
It is but agony of desire:
If I can hope-Oh God! I can-
Its fount is holier-more divine-
I would not call thee fool, old man,
But such is not a gift of thine.
Know thou the secret of a spirit
Bow’d from its wild pride into shame.
O yearning heart! I did inherit
Thy withering portion with the fame,
The searing glory which hath shone
Amid the jewels of my throne,
Halo of Hell! and with a pain
Not Hell shall make me fear again-
O craving heart, for the lost flowers
And sunshine of my summer hours!
The undying voice of that dead time,
With its interminable chime,
Rings, in the spirit of a spell,
Upon thy emptiness-a knell.
I have not always been as now:
The fever’d diadem on my brow
I claim’d and won usurpingly-
Hath not the same fierce heirdom given
Rome to the Caesar-this to me?
The heritage of a kingly mind,
And a proud spirit which hath striven
Triumphantly with human kind.
On mountain soil I first drew life:
The mists of the Taglay have shed
Nightly their dews upon my head,
And, I believe, the winged strife
And tumult of the headlong air
Have nestled in my very hair.
So late from Heaven-that dew-it fell
(Mid dreams of an unholy night)
Upon me with the touch of Hell,
While the red flashing of the light
From clouds that hung, like banners, o’er,
Appeared to my half-closing eye
The pageantry of monarchy,
And the deep trumpet-thunder’s roar
Came hurriedly upon me, telling
Of human battle, where my voice,
My own voice, silly child!-was swelling
(O! how my spirit would rejoice,
And leap within me at the cry)
The battle-cry of Victory!
The rain came down upon my head
Unshelter’d-and the heavy wind
Rendered me mad and deaf and blind.
It was but man, I thought, who shed
Laurels upon me: and the rush-
The torrent of the chilly air
Gurgled within my ear the crush
Of empires-with the captive’s prayer-
The hum of suitors-and the tone
Of flattery ’round a sovereign’s throne.
My passions, from that hapless hour,
Usurp’d a tyranny which men
Have deem’d, since I have reach’d to power,
My innate nature-be it so:
But father, there liv’d one who, then,
Then-in my boyhood-when their fire
Burn’d with a still intenser glow,
(For passion must, with youth, expire)
E’en then who knew this iron heart
In woman’s weakness had a part.
I have no words-alas!-to tell
The loveliness of loving well!
Nor would I now attempt to trace
The more than beauty of a face
Whose lineaments, upon my mind,
Are-shadows on th’ unstable wind:
Thus I remember having dwelt
Some page of early lore upon,
With loitering eye, till I have felt
The letters-with their meaning-melt
To fantasies-with none.
O, she was worthy of all love!
Love-as in infancy was mine-
‘Twas such as angel minds above
Might envy; her young heart the shrine
On which my every hope and thought
Were incense-then a goodly gift,
For they were childish and upright-
Pure-as her young example taught:
Why did I leave it, and, adrift,
Trust to the fire within, for light?
We grew in age-and love-together,
Roaming the forest, and the wild;
My breast her shield in wintry weather-
And when the friendly sunshine smil’d,
And she would mark the opening skies,
I saw no Heaven-but in her eyes.
Young Love’s first lesson is-the heart:
For ‘mid that sunshine, and those smiles,
When, from our little cares apart,
And laughing at her girlish wiles,
I’d throw me on her throbbing breast,
And pour my spirit out in tears-
There was no need to speak the rest-
No need to quiet any fears
Of her-who ask’d no reason why,
But turn’d on me her quiet eye!
Yet more than worthy of the love
My spirit struggled with, and strove,
When, on the mountain peak, alone,
Ambition lent it a new tone-
I had no being-but in thee:
The world, and all it did contain
In the earth-the air-the sea-
Its joy-its little lot of pain
That was new pleasure-the ideal,
Dim vanities of dreams by night-
And dimmer nothings which were real-
(Shadows-and a more shadowy light!)