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[Oct. 16th, 2021|06:13 pm] |
Перевод Ани Крушельницкой
AT SEASIDE, by Kozma Prutkov (circa 1860)
At seaside, right next to the border, There’s a big kitchen garden I know, Where rhubarb grows tall and majestic, Where cabbages modestly grow. A gardener strolls in no hurry, Minding his plantings each morn. His smock is untidy and dirty, His overcast eyes full of scorn.
He’ll water his cabbages, careless; O’er his rhubarb he’ll hold his can high. He’ll snip off a handful of green leeks, Then after he’ll heave a deep sigh.
One day, an important official Rides a troika, sans fear, sans regret. He’s wearing tall padded galoshes, He’s sporting a golden lorgnette.
The visitor asks: “Where’s your daughter?” He narrows his lorgnetted eye. The gard’ner stares back like a madman, Waving his hand in reply.
So the troika takes off in a hurry, Knocking dew off rhubarb as it goes… The gard’ner still stands there, all sullen, His finger a-dig up his nose.
Некоторых приходится обожать с омерзением, несмотря ни на что. Еще более балладно получилось по-английски. Занятно, что рифма "огородник -- передник" раньше была, очевидно, карикатурно плохая, а сейчас наоборот. |
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