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Вообще-то в девятнадцатый век я обычно предпочитаю не соваться своими немытыми лапами; его очень много треплют без дела. Но уж больно перевод хороший. Едва ли не лучше оригинала.
The Testament
I want to be alone with you,
A moment quite alone.
The minutes left to me are few,
They say I'll soon be gone.
And you are going home on leave,
They say . . . but why ? I do believe
There's not a soul who'll greatly care
To hear about me over there.
Ant yet if someone questions you,
Whoever it may be, --
Tell them a bullet hit me through
The chest, -- and did for me.
And say I died, and for the Tsar,
And say what fools the doctors are :--
And that I shook you by the hand,
And spoke about my native land.
My father and my mother, both,
By now are surely dead --
To tell the truth, I would be loth
To send them tears to shed.
If one of them is living, say
I'm bad at writing home, and they
Have told the regiment to pack, --
And that I shan't be coming back.
We had a neighbour, as you know,
And you remember I
And she. . . . How very long ago
It is we said good-bye !
She won't ask after me, nor care,
But tell her ev'rything, don't spare
Her empty heart ; and let her cry ; --
To her it does not signify.
В качестве переводчика указан некто Hon. M. Baring, но почему-то у меня ощущение, что это тот же Sir Cecil Maurice Bowra...
The Testament
I want to be alone with you,
A moment quite alone.
The minutes left to me are few,
They say I'll soon be gone.
And you are going home on leave,
They say . . . but why ? I do believe
There's not a soul who'll greatly care
To hear about me over there.
Ant yet if someone questions you,
Whoever it may be, --
Tell them a bullet hit me through
The chest, -- and did for me.
And say I died, and for the Tsar,
And say what fools the doctors are :--
And that I shook you by the hand,
And spoke about my native land.
My father and my mother, both,
By now are surely dead --
To tell the truth, I would be loth
To send them tears to shed.
If one of them is living, say
I'm bad at writing home, and they
Have told the regiment to pack, --
And that I shan't be coming back.
We had a neighbour, as you know,
And you remember I
And she. . . . How very long ago
It is we said good-bye !
She won't ask after me, nor care,
But tell her ev'rything, don't spare
Her empty heart ; and let her cry ; --
To her it does not signify.
В качестве переводчика указан некто Hon. M. Baring, но почему-то у меня ощущение, что это тот же Sir Cecil Maurice Bowra...