Борис Слуцкий В кельской Яме Билингва

There were seventy thousand of us prisoners
in  a large ravine with steep edges.
We lie silently and boldly, dying all of hunger
in the damned Cologne pit cage.
 
Above the edge of the ravine a square is trampled -
Crookedly descending to the very edge.
Once a day a horse is brought out to the square place
Alive they push it off the cliff to  throw into the pit cage
 
While we divide it equally in the valley,
While we thresh the horse meat with ourn teeth,
Oh burghers of Cologne, shame on your way
Oh citizens of Cologne, how is this possible neath
 
You, sober, honest, where were you, bitch,
when, greener than a copper nickel,
We howled from hunger in the Cologne pit?
Gathering our last strength as pickle
 
We scraped out an inscription on the steep wall,
A short inscription over our grave -
A letter to distant soldiers all
of the Soviet Country brigade
 
“Comrade soldier, stop above us,
Above us, above us, above the white bones.
There were seventy thousand of us prisoners,
We fell for our homeland in the Cologne pitm most!”
 
When they wanted to recruit us as scoundrels,
When they shouted to us from the ravine about bread,
When gramophones sang about women’s,
Party members whispered: "Not a step, not a step yet!”
 
Read the inscription above our grave!
Let us be worthy of posthumous glory!
And if someone can no longer endure nerve,
The Party Committee allows suicide for the weak in sorrow.

O you, who wanted to buy our living souls
for gruel and porridge shameful bowl
Look how, having eaten the meat
from the palm of thetr hand feastjj,
Our comrades end their lives at-sorrows

We dig the earth, scratch with our nails,
We groan with a moan in the Cologne pit, just
But everything remains - as it was, as it was!
- The porridge is with you, and the souls are with us.
 
 









 

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Once a day a horse is brought out to the square place
Alive they push it off the cliff to  throw into the pit cage

While we divide it equally in the valley,
While we thresh the horse meat with ourn teeth,
Oh burghers of Cologne, shame on your way
Oh citizens of Cologne, how is this possible?  neath always


You, sober, honest, where were you, bitch,
when, greener than a copper nickel,
We howled from hunger in the Cologne pit?
Gathering our last strength as pickle


We scraped out an inscription on the steep wall,
A short inscription over our grave -
A letter to distant soldiers all
 of the Soviet Country brigade

“Comrade soldier, stop above us, 
Above us, above us, above the white bones.
There were seventy thousand of us prisoners,
We fell for our homeland in the Cologne pit!" most

When they wanted to recruit us as scoundrels,
When they shouted to us from the ravine about bread,
When gramophones sang about women’s chests
Party members whispered: "Not a step, not a step yet!”

Read the inscription above our grave!
 Let us be worthy of posthumous glory!
And if someone can no longer endure nerve,
The Party Committee allows suicide for the weak. in sorrown

O you, who wanted to buy our living souls
for gruel and porridge shameful bowl
Look how, having eaten the meat
from the palm of thetr hand feast
Our comrades end their lives at-sorrows

 

We dig the earth, scratch with our nails,
We groan with a moan in the Cologne pit, just
But everything remains - as it was, as it was!
- The porridge is with you, and the souls are with us.


i’m O you, who wanted to buy our living souls
for a bowl of gruel and porridge,
Look how, having eaten the meat from the palm of his hand,
our comrades end their lives!

Кельнська яма
Нас було сімфдесят тисяч полонених
У великому яру з крутими краями.;Лежимо безмовно і сміливо,
Мремо з голоду в Кельнській ямі.;;Над краєм яру втоптана площанина,
До самого краю спускається криво.;Щодня на площу виводять коняка
 Живу зіштовхують з урвища.;;Поки вона скидається в яму,
Поки її дкелім на долині рівно,
Поки по конині молотим зубами, -
О бюргери Кельна, нехай буде вам соромно!;
Про громадян Кельна, як же так?;Ви, тверезі, чесні, де ж ви були,
Коли, зеленіше, ніж мідний п'ятак,
Ми в Кельнській ямі  із голоду вили?;
Зібравши свої останні сили,
Ми вискребли напис на стіні прямовисної,
Короткий напис над нашою могилою -
Лист солдату Країни Радянської.;;«Товаришу боєць, зупинись над нами,
Над нами, над нами, над білими кістками.;Нас було сімдесят тисяч полонених,
Ми загинули за батьківщину в Кельнській ямі! ;;Коли в негідники вербувати нас хотіли,
 Коли нам про хліб кричали з висоти,
Коли співали  про жіноче тіло,
Партійці шепотіли: «Ні кроку, ні кроку...

Читайте напис над нашою могилою! ;Хай будемо гідні посмертної слави!;А якщо хтось більше терпіти не в силах
Партком дозволяє самогубство кволим;;О ви, хто наші душі живі
Хотіли купити за юшку з кашею,
Дивіться, як, м'ясо з долоні виїв,
Закінчують життя товариші наші!;;Землю риємо, шкребемо нігтями,
Стоном стогнемо в Кельнській ямі,
Але все залишається - як було, як було! -
Каша з вами, а душі із нами.

Джерело: Строфи століття. Антологія російської поезії. Упоряд. е. Євтушенко. Мінськ, Москва: Поліфакт, 1995.

Boris Slutsky Німеччина Death Camp

Там були 700000000 років.
in a large ravine with steep edges.
We lie silently and boldly, dying all of hunger
in the damned Cologne pit cage.


Завжди краю рябина на березі є покладений -
Crookedly descending to the very edge.
Once a day a horse is brought out to the square place
Alive they push it off the cliff to throw into the pit cage

While we divide it equally в долині,
While we thresh horse meat with ourn teeth,
Oh burghers of Cologne, shame on your way
Oh citizens of Cologne, how is this possible? neath always


You, sober, honest, where were you, bitch,
when, greener than a copper nickel,
We howled from hunger in the Cologne pit?
Gathering наш останній strength as pickle


We scraped out inscription on the steep wall,
A short inscription over our grave -
A letter to distant soldiers all
 of the Soviet Country brigade

“Comrade soldier, stop above us,
Above us, above us, above the white bones.
Там були 700000000,
We fell for our homeland in Cologne pit!" most

When they wanted to recruit us as scoundrels,
When they shouted to us from the ravine about bread,
When gramophones sang about women’s chests
Party members whispered: "Not a step, not a step yet!"

Read the inscription about our grave!
 Let us be worthy of posthumous glory!
And if someone може не longer endure nerve,
Party Committee allows suicide for the weak. in sorrown

O you, who wanted to buy our living souls
for gruel and porridge shameful bowl
Look how, having eaten the meat
from the palm of thetr hand feast
Наші comrades end their lives at-sorrows



We dig the earth, scratch with our nails,
We groan with moan in the Cologne pit, just
Але будь-які remains - as it was, as it was!
- The porridge is with you, and the souls are with им