Пятиминутка поэзии-6. Сказание о старом мореходе
"Сказание о старом мореходе". Сэмюэл Тэйлор Колридж. Английский поэт-романтик, мыслитель и публицист. Поэт... нет, не буду изощряться в эпитетах.
Сложности начинаются с перевода названия. Rime - это слово, обозначающееся в словарях как "устар.", то есть не поэма, не баллада. Сказание - ближе к делу. Хотя еще лучше "сказ". В общем, нет точного аналога.
Равно как и для определения Ancient. Формально это "древний", но в данном случае это слово неуместно, мореход (не "моряк!") - современник автора, какой он древний... "Старый" - слишком слабо. Слова с нужным оттенком в русском языке нет. Не всегда великий могучий помогает...
Про эту балладу (жанр именно такой), можно еще прочитать Вот здесь по-английски, или, покороче, по-русски.
Дать целиком текст не могу - не уместится, обязательные ремарки, без которых баллада "не заиграет", разместить еще сложнее. Делить стих на два или более постов - нелепо. Поэтому я выложил только начало, первую и вторую часть, кому интересно, прочитают дальше по ссылке. Зато послушаем вволю. Настоящий театр у микрофона
Мореход - Ричард Бертон, тот самый, супруг Элизабет Тэйлор
Роберт Харди - Свадебный гость
Джон Невилл - От автора
Читает Орсон Уэллс. Даю ссылки ради экономии места. Советую послушать в другой раз
http://youtu.be/4EpuaCaPML8
http://youtu.be/j6TYaeI-NKQ
http://youtu.be/DKk43D5W_K8
http://youtu.be/yqDxAFW7jL4
http://youtu.be/qJ7fjTB9xbw
Здесь - баллада целиком: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
PART I
IT is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye-
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,
The southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hail'd it in God's name.
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steer'd us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch'd for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmer'd the white moonshine.'
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!-
Why look'st thou so?'-'With my crossbow
I shot the Albatross.
PART II
'The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!
And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!
Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That brought the fog and mist. 100
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow follow'd free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
Перевод Николая Гумилева. Не очень он мне нравится, но есть удивительные поэтические взлеты
Перевод Вильгельма Левика. Хороший перевод, точный. Но - не Колридж
Сложности начинаются с перевода названия. Rime - это слово, обозначающееся в словарях как "устар.", то есть не поэма, не баллада. Сказание - ближе к делу. Хотя еще лучше "сказ". В общем, нет точного аналога.
Равно как и для определения Ancient. Формально это "древний", но в данном случае это слово неуместно, мореход (не "моряк!") - современник автора, какой он древний... "Старый" - слишком слабо. Слова с нужным оттенком в русском языке нет. Не всегда великий могучий помогает...
Про эту балладу (жанр именно такой), можно еще прочитать Вот здесь по-английски, или, покороче, по-русски.
Дать целиком текст не могу - не уместится, обязательные ремарки, без которых баллада "не заиграет", разместить еще сложнее. Делить стих на два или более постов - нелепо. Поэтому я выложил только начало, первую и вторую часть, кому интересно, прочитают дальше по ссылке. Зато послушаем вволю. Настоящий театр у микрофона
Мореход - Ричард Бертон, тот самый, супруг Элизабет Тэйлор
Роберт Харди - Свадебный гость
Джон Невилл - От автора
Click to viewЧитает Орсон Уэллс. Даю ссылки ради экономии места. Советую послушать в другой раз
http://youtu.be/4EpuaCaPML8
http://youtu.be/j6TYaeI-NKQ
http://youtu.be/DKk43D5W_K8
http://youtu.be/yqDxAFW7jL4
http://youtu.be/qJ7fjTB9xbw
Здесь - баллада целиком: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
PART I
IT is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye-
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,
The southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hail'd it in God's name.
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steer'd us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch'd for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmer'd the white moonshine.'
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!-
Why look'st thou so?'-'With my crossbow
I shot the Albatross.
PART II
'The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!
And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!
Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That brought the fog and mist. 100
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow follow'd free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.
Перевод Николая Гумилева. Не очень он мне нравится, но есть удивительные поэтические взлеты
Перевод Вильгельма Левика. Хороший перевод, точный. Но - не Колридж