Log in

No account? Create an account
ду фу - По делам сюда приплыл, а не за этим — ЖЖ [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Anatoly Vorobey

[ website | Website ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

[Links:| English-language weblog ]

ду фу [июн. 12, 2018|06:11 pm]
Anatoly Vorobey

Ду Фу (712-770). Вторая часть стихотворения 761г. в оригинале и переводах.


В единении с природой, II

Встречаю я
Весеннюю зарю

Там, где цветы
Заполонили сад.

И с завистью теперь
На птиц смотрю.

А людям
Отвечаю невпопад.

Читая книги -
Пью вино за двух,

Где трудно -
Пропущу иероглиф.

Старик отшельник -
Мой хороший друг -

Он знает,
Что я истинно ленив.

761 г.
(перевод А.И.Гитовича)

On the Spur of the Moment, II

River slopes, already midmonth of spring;
under the blossoms, bright mornings again.
I look up, eager to watch the birds;
turn my head, answering what I took for a call.
Reading books, I skip the hard parts;
faced with wine, I keep my cup filled.
These days I've gotten to know the old man of Emei.
He understand this idleness that is my true nature.

(translated by Burton Watson, The Selected Poems of Du Fu, 2002)

Haphazard Compositions, II

On the river floodplain it is already mid-spring,
under the flowers once again a clear morning.
I raise my face, avid to watch the birds,
I turn my head, mistakenly to answer someone.
When I read, I pass over the hard words,
with ale before me, full pots are frequent.
Recently I've gotten to know an old fellow from Emei,
he understands that my indolence is my true nature.

(translated by Stephen Owen, The Poetry of Du Fu, 2016)

Already mid-spring on the riverside,
Sunrise opens beneath the blossoms again.
Hoping to see the bird, I look up. And
Turning away, I answer . . . no one there.

I read, skipping over hard parts easily,
Pour wine from full jars. . . . The old
Sage on O-mei is a new friend.
It is here, in idleness, I become real.

(translated by David Hinton, The Selected Poems of Tu Fu, 1989)

On this river-bank Middle Spring has come.
Under trees in flower at the morning's prime
I can lean to look at the swinging birds.
I lie to the man who asks my health.

I read. I skip unfamiliar words.
I face wine and I fill my cup to the brim.
'Tis not long since I met Hermit O Mei.
He knows the truth—just how lazy I am.

(translated by Edna Worthley Underwood and Chi Hwang Chu, Tu Fu: Wanderer and Ministrel Under Moons of Cathay, 1929)

[User Picture]From: tandem_bike
2018-06-13 02:51 am
american not english.
contemporary american poetry - не на дне. пробила дно.

кстати стихотворение это мне понравилось в русском переводе.

у америкaнцев был один очень, очень хороший переводчик с русского - Арндт, один очень хороший с нескольких восточновевропейских языков - черт, забыла имя. na R.

а так - ни поэзии ни переводов нет.

проза есть, но последнее время какая-то пелевинщина по всме углам, францены эти и прочие фффу.
(Ответить) (Parent) (Thread)