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Пишет clement ([info]clement)
@ 2003-07-07 14:16:00


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Wilfred Owen, The Parable of the Old Man and the Young
Был в библиотеке, взял "Военный реквием" Бриттена. Реквием написан на канонический латинский текст со вставками стихов Оуэна (Wilfred Owen). Надо сказать, что стихов Оуэна я не читал и не знаю, переводили ли их на русский язык. Ниже одно из понравившихся мне стихотворений, включенное в реквием:

The Parable of the Old Man and the Young

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and strops,
And builded parapets and trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.

But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.


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[info]avva@lj
2003-07-07 05:47 (ссылка)
Самое знаменитое стихотворение Оуэна - "Dulce et Decorum Est".

На русский язык его не переводили, насколько мне известно.

(Ответить) (Ветвь дискуссии)

:
[info]clement@lj
2003-07-07 06:56 (ссылка)
http://www.cwrl.utexas.edu/~benjamin/316kfall/316ktexts/owendulce.html

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned out backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!--An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

(Ответить) (Уровень выше) (Ветвь дискуссии)

Re: :
[info]avva@lj
2003-07-07 07:15 (ссылка)
Это плохая версия, текст испорчен (как минимум в строке bitter as the cud, сразу в глаза бросилось; я эти заключительные строки наизусть знаю).

Вот здесь нормальный текст, например:
http://www.emory.edu/ENGLISH/LostPoets/Dulce.html

(Ответить) (Уровень выше) (Ветвь дискуссии)

:
[info]clement@lj
2003-07-08 00:31 (ссылка)
Большое спасибо!

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