Есть у меня такая мания - искать переводы русской классики на английский язык. Дабы изучить и сравнить. Но хотя бы на прочитать не всегда есть время (у меня, чувствую. это становится главной отмазкой в последнее время даже перед самой собой!!!) только пролистать. И поглядеть интересные места)) У меня есть мастер и Маргарита. Евгений Онегин, Руслан и Людмила, стихи Пушкина и Лермонтова.



Вот это для вас: может кому интересно =)





TATYANA’S LETTER TO ONEGIN



I write to you – and all my soul

Has none to add to such a fact!

I know that, if ‘tis your goal,

You’ll punish me with non-respect.

But if for my unhappy dole,

You have a drop of piety,

You’d never leave alone me.

At first, I’d wished to be quite silent;

For sure, you never would have seen –

These my atrocious shame and sin

If I were any hope granted,

Just seldom, on a week just once,

To see you, as a guest, midst us,

Only to catch your speeches fleeting,

Only to say to you a word –

And then to have this in a thought

Through day and night till a new meeting. –

But, they say, men spoil your good mood,

You’re bored in the rustic hole,

And we… have none to be approved,

Though meet you with our heart and soul.



Why have you called upon our place?

In our village, all forgotten,

I’d not know you in other case,

Either the tortures, I am brought in.

At time, having suppressed and molten

The movement of my naпve heart,

Maybe, I would find a good spouse,

Become a true wife of a house,

And a mother, very kind and right.



Another one!... No, in the whole

World only you can have my love!

That’s the decree higher than royal…

I’m yours – by will of skies above.

My whole life was only pawning

Of meeting that is waiting us,

You are an advent of God’s morning,

My guardian till my years last…

In my night dreams, you oft appeared;

Non-seemed, you have been my sweetheart,

Your splendid glance troubled my blood,

My heart was filled with your voice dear.

Not long ago… That wasn’t a dream!

You’d just come in – I got aware,

Was stunned and put in awful glare,

And thought at once, “That’s him! That’s him!”

Is it not truth? I heard you often,

You spake to me in quiet voice,

When I was helping a poor orphan

Or trying with a prayer to soften

Pain of my soul, troubled and lost?

And, at this very moment here,

Was it not you – oh, my ghost dear –

Who fleshed in the transparent night,

Gently inclined to my hot pillow,

And, with great joy and love which filled you,

Whispered to me of hope’s light?

Who’re you? My guardian and saver

Or evil and perfidious temper:

Help me to get off doubts’ seeds.

Maybe, all this is silly, rather,

A virgin soul’s great deceits,

And fate prepares for me another…

But so be it! I do entrust

My fate to you since this great instant,

Pour bitter tears under your glance,

Beg you to be my warden decent…

Behold! I’m here only one,

None understand me all around,

My mind gets tiered and unsound,

And, mute, I move to deadly line.

I wait for you: a glance yours, single,

Let animate my dying heart,

Or let your censure interrupt

My dreams if they’re with folly mingled!



I’m finishing! Can’t read it else…

Stunned with my awful shame and fear…

But I trust to your noble sense,

And firmly self to it deliver…