Поупражняемся в переводах?
Народ, мы тут с Машей недавно замыслили игру в переводы: берем хороший текст и начинаем все дружно переводить, и смотрим, что получилось. А тут и повод нашелся: мой друг Саша из Австралии прислал чудесный короткий мультик-экранизацию стихотворения Билли Коллинз "The Country". Про мышек-поджигателей :-)
Сначала мультик: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xovLpim_1s
Теперь текст:
The Country
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire.
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.
Who could sleep that night?
Who could whisk away the thought
of the one unlikely mouse
padding along a cold water pipe
behind the floral wallpaper
gripping a single wooden match
between the needles of his teeth?
Who could not see him rounding a corner,
the blue tip scratching against a rough-hewn beam,
the sudden flare, and the creature
for one bright, shining moment
suddenly thrust ahead of his time-
now a fire-starter, now a torch-bearer
in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid
illuminating some ancient night.
Who could fail to notice,
lit up in the blazing insulation,
the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces
of his fellow mice, one-time inhabitants
of what once was your house in the country?
-Billy Collins
Народ в блоге Саши начал жаловаться, что нет перевода. Поможем? Ваши варианты перевода прошу выкладывать сюда (на сайт НЛО), или присылать мне на мейл. До конца недели (25 октября) справимся?
Сначала мультик: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xovLpim_1s
Click to viewТеперь текст:
The Country
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire.
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.
Who could sleep that night?
Who could whisk away the thought
of the one unlikely mouse
padding along a cold water pipe
behind the floral wallpaper
gripping a single wooden match
between the needles of his teeth?
Who could not see him rounding a corner,
the blue tip scratching against a rough-hewn beam,
the sudden flare, and the creature
for one bright, shining moment
suddenly thrust ahead of his time-
now a fire-starter, now a torch-bearer
in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid
illuminating some ancient night.
Who could fail to notice,
lit up in the blazing insulation,
the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces
of his fellow mice, one-time inhabitants
of what once was your house in the country?
-Billy Collins
Народ в блоге Саши начал жаловаться, что нет перевода. Поможем? Ваши варианты перевода прошу выкладывать сюда (на сайт НЛО), или присылать мне на мейл. До конца недели (25 октября) справимся?