Вcтреча стихов и музыки: рок бывает и таким
Процесс и результат переосмысления чужого творчества может принимать разные формы. В 2011 году англо-ирландская рок-группа "The Waterboys" выпустила альбом под названием "An Appointment with Mr Yeats" ("Встреча с г-ном Йейтсом"), все 14 песен которого представляют собой стихотворения великого ирландского поэта У.Б. Йейтса, положенные на рок-музыку. Довольно неожиданное обрамление стихов, пронизанных в большинстве своем стихией воздуха, но такая обработка придает поэзии иное звучание и новые качества.
У.Б. Йейтс (1865-1939)
Вот две песни из этого альбома:
"Воинство сидов"
Несмотря на то, что рок-музыка - субстанция в основном заземляющая, здесь, на мой взгляд, музыкантам удалось передать дух Ветра и Огня, которым пронизано стихотворение, стремительное движение - при этом сохранив печать Запредельного.
[English lyrics]
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away'.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away'.
Our arms awave, our lips are apart
And if any gaze on our rushing band
We come between him and the hope of his heart
We come between him and the deed of his hand.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away, away, away...'.
"Белые птицы"
На самом деле в этой песне объединены два стихотворения Йейтса ("Роза" и "Темные воды"). Тут заземление проявлено в музыке на полную катушку - и на контрасте с музыкой возвышенные и возвышающие слова. Разрыв шаблона, но я не чувствую в этом дисгармонии...
Слова на английском (а последний-то куплет в песне не весь звучит!):
[Lyrics]
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea
Far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may never die, a sadness that may never die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose
Ah, dream not of that, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew
For I would we were changed, my beloved, to white birds on the foam, I and you, to white birds on the foam, I and you.
Bend low, that I may crown you, flower of the branch
silver fish my hands have taken from the running stream,
morning star, trembling in the heavens like a white fawn on the border of a wood
Bend that I may crown you, that I may crown you.
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may never die, a sadness that may never die.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be
Were we only white birds, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea, white birds on the foam of the sea.
У.Б. Йейтс (1865-1939)
Вот две песни из этого альбома:
"Воинство сидов"
Click to viewНесмотря на то, что рок-музыка - субстанция в основном заземляющая, здесь, на мой взгляд, музыкантам удалось передать дух Ветра и Огня, которым пронизано стихотворение, стремительное движение - при этом сохранив печать Запредельного.
[English lyrics]
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away'.
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away'.
Our arms awave, our lips are apart
And if any gaze on our rushing band
We come between him and the hope of his heart
We come between him and the deed of his hand.
The host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare
Caoilte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling: 'Away, come away'
'Away, come away, away, away, away, away...'.
"Белые птицы"
На самом деле в этой песне объединены два стихотворения Йейтса ("Роза" и "Темные воды"). Тут заземление проявлено в музыке на полную катушку - и на контрасте с музыкой возвышенные и возвышающие слова. Разрыв шаблона, но я не чувствую в этом дисгармонии...
Слова на английском (а последний-то куплет в песне не весь звучит!):
[Lyrics]
I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea
Far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may never die, a sadness that may never die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose
Ah, dream not of that, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew
For I would we were changed, my beloved, to white birds on the foam, I and you, to white birds on the foam, I and you.
Bend low, that I may crown you, flower of the branch
silver fish my hands have taken from the running stream,
morning star, trembling in the heavens like a white fawn on the border of a wood
Bend that I may crown you, that I may crown you.
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky
Has awakened in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may never die, a sadness that may never die.
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be
Were we only white birds, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea, white birds on the foam of the sea.