But I saw with the eyes of a stranger
The reflection of pain and alarm,
You have never even imagined,
But I touched it with somebody’s arm.
I have been there for so many reasons,
And I tasted the smell of the sky.
I have fought during thousand seasons,
But still now doubt what for and why.
And I stood in the mud of the road,
Hoping not to fall face down the dust,
Not to sleep and to wait for reload.
I’m a man, but have nothing to trust.
But the somebody’s spell cursed the wizard,
And the somebody’s love’s passing by,
And I knew, even though it was bizzard,
That my wings were good ones to fly.
Realizing that I leave a little
Under this grey unaffable sky.
Just a drop of a fear of stranger,
And regret to have lived for a lie.
если вспомню где - выложу оригинал.
в последние года полтора мне это стало нравиться - сидеть поздно вечером за компом, перечитывать любимое in verse, делать художественный перевод и гордиться собой.
это мне нравится больше всего. наверное, этот перевод лучший в чем-то, сохранилась идея, the message of the story. Не хочу выкладывать оригинал - кому нужно, тот найдет сам, здесь дословный перевод с русского.
When all of us are dying, the stars begin to weaken,
The wind is blowing clouds, and breath becomes so cold,
The silence is so bare, that one can easy listen
To horse’s dying rattle that thunders in the world.
When all of us are dying, the planets are exploding
With sparkles in the dawn sky, with ashes in the sun.
They will be born once later, be vivid and revolving,
Be bright, be green, be shining, but not like they begun.
When all of us are dying, the constellation changes
And watches from horizon, indifferent, alas.
And in the world of nothing the Universe compresses
On temple of a dead man into a blade of grass.