Желание - перевод М. Ю. Лермонтова
by Michael Yuryevich Lermontov
Why ain't I а bird, not а raven in steppe,
Who's flown over my head?
Why can't I soar there in sky, highly so,
And love only freedom and scope?
To west, only west, I'd like rush in desire
To see fields, with a blossom entirely,
There the ancestor's castles in mountain hazes,
Still keep their old rest's ashes.
On the ancient wall the old ancestor's shields
And swords so rusty hang still.
I could fly above those swords, those shields
And clean their dust by my wings.
When I slightly touch there the old scott's harp
The sound flies highly above,
And quieten after, when I interrupt
To twitch those strings in the dark.
But prays are in vain, and so - the dreams,
The fate's rules are rigid to be.
And there are the waves of the alien seas
Between motherland and my feels.
The last of descendants of the prominent fighters
Are fading there far in the snowpiles.
Was born in this place, being alien to it...
Oh! Why can't I the steppe raven be?
---
* Достаточно тяжело рифмуется...
ЖЕЛАНИЕ
Зачем я не птица, не ворон степной,
Пролетевший сейчас надо мной?
Зачем не могу в небесах я парить
И одну лишь свободу любить?
На запад, на запад помчался бы я,
Где цветут моих предков поля,
Где в замке пустом, на туманных горах,
Их забвенный покоится прах.
На древней стене их наследственный щит,
И заржавленный меч их висит.
Я стал бы летать над мечом и щитом
И смахнул бы я пыль с них крылом;
И арфы шотландской струну бы задел,
И по сводам бы звук полетел;
Внимаем одним, и одним пробужден,
Как раздался, так смолкнул бы он.
Но тщетны мечты, бесполезны мольбы
Против строгих законов судьбы.
Меж мной и холмами отчизны моей
Расстилаются волны морей.
Последний потомок отважных бойцов
Увядает средь чуждых снегов;
Я здесь был рожден, но нездешний душой...
О! зачем я не ворон степной?...
(1831)
----
см. также
Алексей Дементьев
CRAVING
Why ain't I a raven, a bird of the veld
Which has just flown over my head?
Why cannot I soar in the skies high above
And the freedom be my only love?
The west, it's the west only place where I'd fly
Where the fields of my roots blooming lie,
A castle so empty in misty mountains
Still keeps their forgotten remains.
Their ancestral shield and their old rusty sword
Still hang on the wall of old lord.
And then I would fly over those sword and shield
And wipe off their old dust with my wing.
And I'd touch the string of that scottish old harp,
And the archs filled with sound so sharp;
Heard only by one and awakened by one,
It would start and fall silent when done.
But vain are the prayers and vain are the dreams
For the strict laws of fate as it seems.
Between the old hills of my homeland and me
There are flowing the waves of the sea.
The latest descendant of fighters so brave
In the alien snow fades like a slave.
My body's here but my soul never was here...
Oh! why ain't I a raven so clear?...
-----
и еще:
Виктор Постников
Michail Lermontov
Wish
Why can’t I be flying like a bird over mead,
Like this very raven which flew o'er head,
Why can’t I be soaring aloft in the sky
Where freedom alone will always be mine?
I’d rush to the west, to the west I would fly,
Where blossoming fields of my ancestors lie,
Where high on a hill, in a castle forlorn,
Remains of my fathers still rest in a tomb
Where shield of my kinsmen and the glorious sword
Still hang on the wall in the empty parlor;
I’d fly to the sword and the shield overnight,
I’d brush dust away with a wing from their sight
And harps of the Scotts I would touch as I pass
And the sound would rise to the vault, long suppressed,
And the only awakened and hearkening one
Would be me who unleashes the desolate sound
But dreams and the prayers stay useless, alas,
They can't change the destiny’s pitiless laws
The seas of the vastness spread over my part
They keep me and hills of my homeland apart
The only descendent of warriors wanes
‘mid the alien snows in a land of the slaves
I was born here but soul never comes to agree,
Why can’t I be flying like a raven of free?
Свидетельство о публикации №110102903850
ВП
Mikhail Lermontov
Wish
Why can’t I be flying like a bird over mead,
Like this very raven which flew o'er head,
Why can’t I be soaring aloof in the sky
Where freedom alone will always be mine?
I’d rush to the west, to the west I would fly,
Where blossoming fields of my ancestors lie,
Where high on a hill, in a castle forlorn,
Remains of my fathers still rest in a tomb
Where shields of my kinsmen and the glorious sword
Still hang on the wall in the empty parlor;
I’d fly to the sword and the shield overnight,
I’d brush dust away with a wing in a flight
And harps of the Scotts I would touch as I pass
And the sound would rise to the vault, long suppressed,
And the only awakened and hearkening one
Would be me who unleashes the desolate sound
But the dreams and the prayers stay useless, alas,
They can't change the destiny’s pitiless laws
The seas of the vastness spread over my part
They keep me and hills of my homeland apart
The only descendent of warriors wanes
‘mid the alien snows in a land of the slaves
I was born here but soul never comes to agree,
Why can’t I be flying like a raven of free?
ВП
Виктор Постников 22.11.2010 20:17 Заявить о нарушении
Людмила 31 21.11.2010 17:06 Заявить о нарушении