Ролф Якобсен. II. Когда они спят
(двойной перевод)
II
Все – как дети, когда спят.
Нет в груди у них войны.
Их разжаты кулаки,
а дыханье ловит ритм
божьей тишины.
Губы пухлы, без морщин,
руки выпростав, затих,
спит холоп, спит господин.
Звёзды охраняют их
в дымке ночи досветла,
в те часы, когда никто
ближним не желает зла.
Наша речь подарком стань
Сердце – розой расцветай.
И слова под стать
пчёлам будут вкруг летать.
- Боже, снов язык мне дай.
(с норвежского)
WHEN THEY SLEEP
by Rolf Jacobsen
All are children in their sleep.
Then there's no war inside.
They relax their hands and breathe,
synced with heaven’s quiet rhythm
given to mankind.
Their lips keep a smile saved,
and they stretch their open hands,
soldier, statesman, master, slave.
Guarding stars above them stand
in the haze of heaven’s charm,
some few hours, when no one
does to others any harm.
Could our speech be like a gift
when our hearts like flowers peep?
Words as golden bees
would then freely drift.
- God, teach me the tongue of sleep.
NOR DE SOVER
av Rolf Jacobsen
Alle er barn nоr de sover.
Da er det ikke krig i dem.
De оpner hendene og puster
i den stille rytme som himlen
har gitt menneskene.
De spisser munnen som smо barn
og оpner hendene halvt alle,
soldat og statsmann, tjenere og herrer.
Stjernene stоr vakt da og det
er en dis over hvelvene,
noen timer da ingen
skal gjёre hverandre ondt.
Kunne vi bare tale til hverandre da
nоr hjertene er som halvt оpne blomster.
Ord som gylne bier
skulde trenge inn der.
- Gud, lэr mig sёvnens sprog.
Свидетельство о публикации №113032311832
noone" should be "no one"
Will not boether you with the articles, just read your comment (incidentally) that you are against them)
Галина Иззьер 24.03.2013 00:25 Заявить о нарушении
'Their pursed lips save a smile' - but i badly needed save-slave, so it is an inversion (hehe) no one corrected, grazie
Валентин Емелин 24.03.2013 04:04 Заявить о нарушении
- When They Sleep
All people are children when they sleep.
There's no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.
They pucker their lips like small children
and open their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when no one will do anybody harm.
If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
-- God, teach me the language of sleep.
Александра Волчкова 24.03.2013 13:18 Заявить о нарушении
Валентин Емелин 24.03.2013 14:24 Заявить о нарушении