Клемент Кларк Мур
Иллюстрации Таши Тюдор
Перевод с англ. Л.Яхнина:
Крадётся тихой мышкой в дом
Ночь перед светлым Рождеством.
Спит мама в чепчике ночном,
Уснули дети мирным сном,
И небо в звёздах-леденцах
Мерцает в детских сладких снах.
Рядком на полочке камина
Чулочки ждут подарков чинно.
Я среди ночи слышу вдруг
Снаружи грохот, гром и стук.
Скакнул я на пол, стал на стул,
Окошко в стужу распахнул.
Там в лунном свете голубом
Сверкает белый снег, как днём.
И санки лихо мчит под горку
Оленей крошечных восьмёрка.
Возница в шубе расписной
Окутан снежной пеленой.
Я Санта-Клауса узнал.
А он вперёд оленей гнал:
— Скорее, Гром, Амур, Танцор!
Комета, мчи во весь опор!
Снежок, Пушок, Малыш, Крепыш,
Несите сани выше крыш!
И, как снежинки на ветру,
Летят олени по двору.
Нам Санта-Клаус, сам с вершок,
Везёт с гостинцами мешок!
Цок-цок! — алмазные копытца
Стучат по звонкой черепице.
Застыли вереницей длинной
Олени у трубы каминной.
А Санта-Клаус в дом нырнул.
Он сажу с шубы отряхнул,
И вот стоит передо мной
С мешком игрушек за спиной!
Румянец рдеет на щеках,
И скачут искорки в глазах.
Нос алой ягодкой круглится,
А борода, как снег, клубится.
Дымок из трубки, как из печки,
Летит, свивается в колечки.
В шубейке с меховой опушкой,
Он сам казался мне игрушкой.
А гость ни слова не сказал,
Мешок тугой свой развязал,
Подарки из него добыл,
Чулочки доверху набил,
И, помахав рукою мне,
Исчез в каминной глубине.
Вновь под луною мчатся сани
В ночном серебряном тумане,
И слышно в вихре снеговом:
«Всех со счастливым Рождеством!»
The Night Before Christmas
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!»
Clement Clarke Moore написал свою рождественскую поэму «An Account of a Visit From Saint Nicholas», которую впоследствии переименовали в «The Night Before Christmas«, что в переводе означает «Ночь перед Рождеством», в 1822 году. Moor был профессором по религии, но вошел в историю и запомнился всему миру именно по этой теплой рождественской сказке-поэме, которую написал в одно из Рождество для своих детей.