|
ÒÂÎÐ×ÅÑÒÂÎ
ÑÒÓÄÅÍÒÎÂ
ÎÏÛÒÛ ÏÎÝÒÈ×ÅÑÊÈÕ
ÏÅÐÅÂÎÄÎÂ
23
íîÿáðÿ ñîñòîÿëîñü âðó÷åíèå ãðàìîò
ñòóäåíòàì çà ïîýòè÷åñêîå òâîð÷åñòâî,
íàó÷íûå èññëåäîâàíèÿ â îáëàñòè
ëèíãâèñòèêè, ïåðåâîäà, ëèòåðàòóðîâåäåíèÿ,
ëèíãâîäèäàêòèêè.
Â
÷àñòíîñòè, ïåðâàÿ ïðåìèÿ çà ïîýòè÷åñêèé
ïåðåâîä áûëà ïðèñóæäåíà ãðóïïå
ñòóäåíòîê, îêîí÷èâøèõ ÈÈß â ýòîì
ãîäó. Æþðè îòìåòèëî èõ “çà âëþáëåííîñòü
âî ôðàíöóçñêèé ÿçûê, òîíêîå õóäîæåñòâåííîå
÷óòüå, ïðîÿâèâøååñÿ â ïåðåâîäàõ
íà ðóññêèé ÿçûê ñòèõîòâîðåíèé
ôðàíöóçñêèõ äåòñêèõ ïîýòîâ”.
Ìû
äàåì âîçìîæíîñòü ÷èòàòåëÿì ñàìèì
óáåäèòüñÿ â ñïðàâåäëèâîñòè òàêîé
îöåíêè, ïóáëèêóÿ âàðèàíòû èõ ïåðåâîäîâ.
Maurice
Careme
Il a neige
Il a neige dans l' aube rose,
Si doucement neige,
Que les choses
Semblent avoir change...
Il a neige dans l' aube rose,
Si doucement neige.
Que le chaton noir croit rever.
Ñ' est a peine s' il ose
Marcher...
Ìîðèñ
Êàðåì
Ñíåãîïàä
 çèìíåé ðîçîâîé óòðåííåé äûìêå,
Èçìåíÿÿ ïðèâû÷íûé ïåéçàæ,
Ïàäàë ñíåã, è êðóæèëèñü ñíåæèíêè,
 òàíöå òèõî íà çåìëþ ëîæàñü.
 çèìíåé ðîçîâîé óòðåííåé äûìêå
Ñåðûé êîò ñî ñíåæèíêîé íà ñïèíêå
Çàìåð â ñêàçî÷íîé íåãå,
Ëàïêó ïîäíÿë, íî âñå æ íå ãîòîâ
Ñäåëàòü øàã è îñòàâèòü à ñíåãå
Êîíòóð ëåãêèõ êîøà÷üèõ ñëåäîâ...
Ïåðåâîä
Âåðû Áåðãìàí
 ðîçîâîì ðàññâåòå ïàäàë ñíåã
Áåëûé, ìÿãêèé, íåæíûé, è êàçàëîñü,
Áóäòî çà îêîøêîì âñå íàâåê
 ÷óäåñàõ ïóøèñòûõ ðàñòâîðÿëîñü.
Ñåðåáðèë äåðåâüÿ ñíåã, êðóæà,
È òàèíñòâåííî çåìëè êàñàëñÿ…
È êîòåíîê, ñäåëàâ äâà øàæêà,
Ïðîáåæàòü ïî ÷óäó íå ðåøàëñÿ…
Ïåðåâîä
Íàòàøè Åðìàêîâîé
 ðîçîâîé äûìêå ðàññâåòà
Ïàäàë ëåíèâî ñíåã,
Ëþäè, äåðåâüÿ, ïðåäìåòû -
Âñå èçìåíèëîñü íàâåê.
Êîòåíîê ïîäóìàë: “Îòêóäà
Ëåòèò ýòî áåëîå ÷óäî?”
È ñòàëî íà ñåðäöå òðåâîæíî:
Ïî ÷óäó õîäèòü íåâîçìîæíî.
Ïåðåâîä
Òàíè Øèáàåâîé
 ðîçîâîé çîðüêå êðóæèò ñíåæîê,
Íåæíî òàê, ìåäëåííî êðóæèò,
×òî êàæåòñÿ, íåáî ñ çåìëåé íàâñåãäà.
Íà âå÷íûå âåêè äðóæèò.
 ðîçîâîé äûìêå êðóæèò ñíåæîê.
Íåæíî òàê, ìåäëåííî êðóæèò.
È áåëûé êîòåíîê, ïðîñíóâøèñü
ÂÄÐÓÃ,
Áîèòñÿ âñå ýòî íàðóøèòü...
Ïåðåâîä
Ëåíû Ðîäèîíîâîé
 ðîçîâîì ðàññâåòå
Ïàäàë áåëûé ñíåã,
Çåìëþ îäåâàÿ
 ñåðåáðèñòûé ìåõ.
Ïîä âóàëüþ ñêðûëèñü ñåðûå ïîëÿ,
 ñêàçêó ïðåâðàòèëèñü ãîëûå ëåñà,
È êîòåíîê æìóðèòñÿ, ïîãëÿäåâ âîêðóã:
“ß è íå îñìåëþñü ïðîãóëÿòüñÿ òóò!”
Ïåðåâîä
Ìàðèíû Èâàíîâîé
ËÅÐÌÎÍÒÎÂ
ÍÀ ÀÍÃËÈÉÑÊÎÌ
Ñòóäåíòêà
4-ãî êóðñà ôàêóëüòåòà “ßçûêè è
êóëüòóðà” Àëüáèíà Ñåâàñòüÿíîâà
ïîëó÷èëà òðåòüþ ïðåìèþ “çà áåðåæíîå
äîíåñåíèå ôèëîñîôñêîé ãëóáèíû
è ïîýòè÷íîñòè ëèðèêè Ì.Þ. Ëåðìîíòîâà
â ïåðåâîäå íà àíãëèéñêèé ÿçûê”.
Ïîðîé,
îáìàí÷èâà áûâàåò ñåäèíà:
Òàê ìõîì ïîêðûòàÿ áóòûëêà âåêîâàÿ
Õðàíèò ñòðóþ êèïó÷åãî âèíà.
(Ì.
Þ. Ëåðìîíòîâ)
Sometimes
decrepit, fading feeble flesh
and grizzled ringlet
Conceal the spark of youth, delude
and are deceptive.
Just like the ancient bottle wrapped
in moss and spider' s web.
Keeps jet of sparkling, amber
ebullient invigorative.
Sweet-scented wine - the priceless
gift of sun and Spanish land of
plenty.
Sometimes
decrepit, feeble flash - the Winter's
captive
The wrinkled, withered face, dull
faded eyes and grizzled ringlet
-
The marks of freezing blast of
old age spell
Against the nature's laws conceal
the youthful ardour
Deluding us, they hide the soul
of early spring.
Believe no more your eyes, they
are too partial.
Be guided by your feeling and
your heart.
They can't conceive the truth,
the essence of the beauty
That can't be caught by Venice
looking glass.
|