 |
nbsp; Под дикий шум, Но зрело знающий работу, ..
Это Карлик говорит Инфанте. Карлик любит Инфанту. Карлик - он. Он, правда, маленький, но совсем не карлик. ...Единая - под множеством имен... ====..
l'_Enfer_, nous lui avons donne la preference, avec la persuasion que le public y trouvera son compte et y puisera amplement les motifs propres a le confirmer dans l'admiration qui aureole ..
Смотрите также:
Марк Цыбульский. Голос Высоцкого
Алексей Ляхов, Михаил Ляхов. Нерв Владимира Высоцкого
Из воспоминаний Вадима Туманова
Марлена Зимна, Марк Цыбульский. Высоцкий в Словакии
Симпозиум каменной скульптуры на темы песен Высоцкого
Поэтический нерв нашей эпохи (Владимир Семенович Высоцкий)
Тема совести в произведениях русской литературы (В.С.Высоцкий. Стихи и песни).
Вы читаете «Translations by Eugenia Weinstein», страница 4 (прочитано 100%)
«1961 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1962 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1963 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1965 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1966 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1967 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1968 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1969 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1970 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1972 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1973 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1974 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1975 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1976 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1977 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1978 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1979 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«1980 год», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«Selected Songs (translated by Ilya Shambat)», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
«Translations By Andrey Kneller», закладка на странице 1 (прочитано 0%)
Here, the ragged and the poorest
Will be saved and understood,
While he walks around the forest,
This good fellow - Robin Hood!
Merry men, they live and cope
In the face of all taboos,
Never losing heart and hope,
Those archers in the woods.
They would sleep on moss and feather,
Use for blankets starry skies,-
No matter what the weather -
Still alive, and that is nice!
Yet, each sighs of being parted
>From his home and piece of land,
Just before the battle started,
Strokes a bow, his loyal friend.
Better archers can't be found...
And if morrow's any good -
Knows the finest man around:
One good fellow - Robin Hood!
1975
The Tightrope Walker
(Translated by Eugenia Weinstein, Aug. '02)
He could neither for rank nor for height hope...
Not for fame and not for payment
In his odd style, without a swerve
All through life he's been walking a tightrope,
Not the pavement, not the pavement -
A tightrope strained like a nerve.
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But he clearly needs, needs to make it today
Through these four quarters of the way.
Lights were throwing off-step and would pierce
Worse than laurels, sharp and nimble.
The trumpet was going insane...
Shouts "Bravo!" kept blasting his ears,
And the cymbal, and the cymbal
Was hammering into his brain!
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But he now has less, less to walk, less to sway -
Already three quarters of the way.
"Ah! How awful, how lovely, how daring!
Death-defying! Just three minutes!"
Mouths open in wait and in fright,
>From the pit were gloomily staring
Tiny midgets... Tiny midgets
They appeared to him from his height.
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But calm down! He's now to balance his weight
For just two quarters of the way!
He would mock fleeting fame, but aspired
To be first, with all his might strove -
Try breaking his kind into crumbs!
It was our nerves, not the wire,
Not the tightrope, not the tightrope,
That he walked to the roll of the drums!
Look! No safety net!
He is moving across...
Half a tilt to the left -
He will fall, he is lost!
Half a tilt to the right -
He is doomed anyway...
But be still! There remains at the end of the day
No more than a quarter of the way!
Screamed the tamer, and animals scurried,
To the stretcher their paws thrust...
But the verdict is simple and blunt:
Whether he was assured or worried,
Into sawdust, into sawdust
He spilled his vexation and blood!
Someone else takes his route
Now, without a net.
Slender cord underfoot...
He will fall, he'll regret!
Leaning right, leaning left -
He is doomed anyway...
But he too, for some reason, must make it today
Through all four quarters of the way!
1972
Оригинальный текст книги: Библиотека Максима Мошкова.
Тем временем:
... Jennett; and this is not a wholesome frame of mind for the
young. Since she chose to regard him as a hopeless liar, but an
economical and self-contained one, never throwing away the least
unnecessary fib, and never hesitating at the blackest, were it only
plausible, that might make his life a little easier. The treatment
taught him at least the power of living alone,--a power that was of
service to him when he went to a public school and the boys laughed at
his clothes, which were poor in quality and much mended. In the holidays
he returned to the teachings of Mrs. Jennett, and, that the chain of
discipline might not be weakened by association with the world, was
generally beaten, on one account or another, before he had been twelve
hours under her roof.
The autumn of one year brought him a companion in bondage, a
long-haired, gray-eyed little atom, as self-contained as himself, who
moved about the house silently and for the first few weeks spoke only to
the goat that was her chiefest friend on earth and lived in the
back-garden. Mrs. Jennett objected to the goat on the grounds that he
was un-Christian,--which he certainly was. 'Then,' said the atom,
choosing her words very deliberately, 'I shall write to my
lawyer-peoples and tell them that you are a very bad woman. Amomma is
mine, mine, mine!' Mrs. Jennett made a movement to the hall, where
certain umbrellas and canes stood in a rack. The atom understood as
clearly as Dick what this meant. 'I have been beaten before,' she said,
still in the same passionless voice; 'I have been beaten worse than you
can ever beat me. If you beat me I shall write to my lawyer-peoples and
tell them that you do not give me enough to eat. I am not afraid of
you.' Mrs. Jennett did not go into the hall, and the atom, after a pause
to assure herself that all danger of war was past, went out, to weep
bitterly on Amomma's neck.
Dick learned to know her as Maisie, and at first mistrusted her
profoundly, for he feared that she might interfere with the small
liberty of action left to him...
