С Энтони Вудом я впервые познакомилась в прошлом году, когда принимала участие в организации "круглого стола" в рамках фестиваля "Пушкин в Британии". Энтони был одним из четырех приглашенных английских русоведов. Общение с ним по обсуждению темы доклада и его публикации в сборнике доставило мне огромное удовольствие. Пока мы общались по телефону и электронной почте, мне казалось, что Энтони - молодой человек с потрясающим чувством юмора. На самом деле, ему за семьдесят, но он, видимо, принадлежит к породе вечно молодых. Недавно я столкнулась с Энтони в фойе маленького лондонского театра, где русские дети играли спектакль по произведениям Пушкина на английском языке. В сцене про графа Нулина был использован перевод Энтони. После спектакля мы пошли в ближайшее кафе и я попыталась не сдерживать своего любопытства. Вышло своеобразное интервью, которое Энтони любезно разрешил опубликовать.
выделить полужирным шрифтом
выделить курсивом |
|
Прокрутить список разделов:
Интернет-журнал “Кругозор” - независимое международное интернет-издание
→
←
Код ссылки на статью для:
Блога,
Форума
Расскажите про эту статью Вашему другу:
Комментарии читателей:
(2140) Вячеслав Чеканов, Россия It is necessary to live without imposture,
So to live, that eventually
To involve in oneself love of space,
And to hear the call of eternity.
Others close in the tracks
Step by step will pass your way,
But you should not distinguish
Your defeat from your victory.
Of a bad bargain make the best,
Still keep hope despite
And regardless of anything.
To depend on the king or on the people,
What difference does it make?
And isn't that to us the same?
To hell with them!
Antonio Salieri (1750-1825)
They always say: there’s no justice in the world,
But there’s no one in the beyond.
I can see that with the utmost clarity,
As if it were a common scale.
Born with the love of art
I can remember as being yet a child
How the sweet tears were involuntarily
Streaming down my cheeks
While in our ancient church
On Easter Sunday I listened with delight
When the organ sounded in the exultant style...
A genius in his own virtue and
A crime are two incompatible things.
Nobody will give you Salvation,
Neither Lord, nor a hero or a king.
And let I will be lost tomorrow
In the unequal fight -
From the best of you
I did learn to die.
A fool saw in it the fool, a sage did see the sage,
But when to it small Jack Ducker was brought,
Then in it the little shaggy slovenly one he had seen.
As the unsolved secret,
In her the live charm breathes-
We look tremblingly and disturbingly
On the quiet light of her eyes.
Whether is there in her the worldly
Glamour or the heavenly happiness?
To her the soul would wish to pray,
Still the heart strive to adore...
Oh, how our love is murderous,
How in the wild blindness of passions
We rather ruin that what for our hearts
Is the most lovely or the dearest!
I ask you, my sadness,
Even if for a while to leave me.
As if you were a cloud, the blue-gray cloud,
Just fly away to my distant home.
My coast, please appear in the distance
In the form of an edge or a thin line.
My coast, coast tender,
Ah, to you native one I hope to reach,
To reach, though sometime.
Somewhere away
It’s during sunshine raining.
Right by the river, in a small garden
Cherries have ripened.
Somewhere away,
In my memory now,
It’s warm, as in the childhood,
Though memory is covered
By such big snow.
You, thunder-storm,
Give me to drink until I’ll grow
Dead intoxicated, but not to the death.
Here again, as if it were in the final time,
I keep looking somewhere in the sky,
As though an answer I searched…
I ask you, my sadness,
Even if for a while to leave me.
As if you were a cloud, the blue-gray cloud,
Just fly away to my distant home.
Still I'm languished with melancholy of desires,
Still with my soul I aspire to you-
And in the twilight of recollections
Still I catch your sweet image...
Your lovely unforgettable image,
It's everywhere, always in front of me,
Incomprehensible, invariable one,
As at night in the sky a star...
Lord bless you, the soul which is fully yielded to
Exclusively a treasured sacred love
And only with it alone aches and breathes.
I love your eyes, my dear,
With their ardent wonderful playing,
When them like a lightning
You all of a sudden lift up
And take a view around.
But there is no a charm more stronger
Than the lowered down eyes
During minutes of passionate kissing,
When through the eyelashes
The dim gloomy fire of desire flickers.
In the quiet garden a nightingale has become silent;
Drops in the gloom from branches are falling;
It smells by the scent of bird-cherry trees blooming...
Could there be in anything more warmth and light than in the word mum?
Is there anything in the world more sacred and tender?
She is the dearest and the loveliest being!
Her hands and eyes are full of both love, kindness and happiness.
Thoughtful and alone
I by the earth will pass to nobody known
And if only before my death
To awakening having suddenly come
The world shall learn it are to lose of whom.
My darling, you know, on the earth there is not
The stable happiness: neither a noble family,
Nor beauty, any power or richness,
Nothing can pass a trouble,
And also you and I, sweetheart,-isn’t that so?
We were happy, at least I did
By you and with your love.
Whatever may happen with me in future,
Wherever may I be, I’ll always remember you,
My dear; I lose you now and nothing in the world
Will ever be like you to me.
For you, the queens of my soul,
Only for you, the beauty,
To the whisper of the old talkative days
The fables of the immemorial times
By my confident hand
In golden leisure I wrote.
Accept the playful work!
Without demanding praises
I am happy with the alone sweet hope
That at my sinful songs
A maid filled with the thrill of love
Will have a look perhaps on sly.
-What did you bring me?
-Nothing. Well, a mere trifle.
By insomnia the other night
I was oppressed and two
Or three ideas crossed my mind.
Today I’ve sketched them.
I wanted to hear your opinion,
But now apparently you are not up to me.
Cleopatra and her lovers.
I swear… oh, mother of pleasures,
My service to you is unprecedented.
On the bed of passionate temptations
As some simple mercenary I ascend.
Hear then, the powerful Venus and you,
Underground deities of the terrible Hades,
I swear, yet by the dawn my masters’ desires
With all secrets of kissing
And with the marvelous bliss
I will voluptuously satisfy.
However, as soon as the purple
Of eternal Aurora will flash,
I swear-under the mortal axes
The heads of the lucky dogs are to fall.
No, I do not esteem the rebellious happiness,
Sensual ecstasy, madness and frenzy,
Groaning, shouting of the young bacchante,
When, wriggling and coiling up in my hugs like a snake,
With the blast of ardent caresses and the ulcer of kisses
She hurries a sweet instant of the last lovely vibrating!
Oh, my meek, what you are the difference!
Oh, what the painful pleasure you grant me,
When you are cold and shy,
Tender but without any excitement,
To my long entreaties yielding,
You give yourself up to me, to my delight
Hardly responding, without anything heeding,
Then you grow more and more lively
And here at last against your will
You share my fever with me!
The rush of times incessantly ravishes all human deeds and sinks into abyss of oblivion every nation, realm and king. Yet if anything eulogized and praised with either the trumpet or the lyre has been left, but then even that shan’t escape of the common destiny and shall be inevitably gluten by the unmerciful funnel of eternity.
A little golden cloud spent the night on the front
Of the rock as big as a giant,
Early in the morning it away had drifted
In the azure sky cheerfully playing;
However a wet trace has remained in a wrinkle
Of the old ogre. Now the pensive cliff lies
Wholly alone and on the sly it’s crying.
In the ocean of Love a turtle swims which is called Happiness. On its shell three white elephants stand, their names are Meekness, Forgiveness and Clemency. Our world of tears and rain, where grief is ruling and reigning, lies in the lie on their spines. It’s a pity, of course, but cant be helped. All such as it is we are to try accepting with favor.
-'I don’t wish any gold, it’s only the truth that I really seek’.
-’To hell with truth, really, what I need it’s only gold’.
In the answer on that the old sage speaks to the youth:
-’To each his own’.
So that to believe in God one by no means
Has to show oneself off to be righteous,
But more often we observe the opposite-
Disbelief they endeavor to conceal with bigotry
Only revealing despair of their souls.
The hardhearted is weaker than the gentle,
And fear lives in the soul of the one
Who is overwhelmed with passions.
There is an ecstasy both in fight
And on the edge of the gloomy chasm,
And at the furious ocean,
Amid the terrible waves and rough obscurity,
And in the Arabian hurricane,
And also in the whiff of the plague.
I’m not sorry, don’t call or cry,
All will pass as the-of the white apple trees-smoke,
Filled with the-of withering-gold
I won’t be a young any more.
All of us in this world are perishable,
The brass of the leaves from the maples flows gently…
Be you for ever blissful
Who has come in the life
So that to blossom out and die.
I’d like to be a yellow sail in that land where we’ll sail.
Mother Nature has no bad weather,
Every weather is grace,
Hail and rain-any season of year
One with gratitude should accept.
Let’s understand all that we’ve seen,
All that has happened with us
And has became with the nation.
Also we’ll forgive all caused to us insults
On another’s and through our fault.
Face to face one whouldn’t see the opposite person.
The big and the great is seen on the distance.
Goodbye, my love, goodbye.
My darling, you are always in my mind.
Inevitable parting promises a meeting ahead.
Goodbye, beloved, goodbye!
Sitting on my laps,
Your look having taken away,
With passion you are thrilled.
My dear, it is necessary to live easier,
All accepting that exists.
To die, so to die,
Ready for all I have being lived for a long time,
Nevertheless I thank for everything the life.
He’s happy, who has decorated his life
With the wanderer’s bag and staff.
He’s blest who with the miserly joy,
Living without any friend or a foe,
Praying on the stacks and the shocks,
Will pass along a country road.
I can remember the wonderful instant:
When in front of me you appeared,
As a transient fleeting vision,
Like some genius of the pure beauty.
In depression of the grief hopeless,
In troubles of the noisy vanity
To me long the gentle tender voice sounded
And also the lovely sweet features dreamt ardently.
There passed years. Of the storms an impulse rebellious
Had dispersed all my former dreams,
I had completely forgotten your voice gentle
And also your heavenly features.
In solitude, in the gloom of exile,
My days without life lasted sadly,
Without a muse and a deity,
Without tears and love.
To my soul has come awakening:
And here you again has appeared,
As a transient fleeting vision,
Like some genius of the pure beauty.
And now my heart beats in ecstasy,
And for it again have revived
Both a muse and a deity,
And life, and tears, and love.
I loved you: my love perhaps still
In my soul has died away not absolutely;
But let it any more does not disturb you;
I don’t wish you to grieve with anything at all.
I loved you hopelessly in silence
Now quailing, now being jealous;
I loved you so sincerely and gently,
As may God grant you to be favorite by another.
Only since my lyre arouses good feelings
People shall be for ever pleased with me,
Because in my severe time I adored Freedom,
And to mercy regarding the wretched called.
Oh muse, without fearing insults,
Without demanding a laurel wreath
Praise and slander accept indifferently,
To Providence without fail be obedient
And also don’t challenge a fool.
The alone whitish sail is being seen in the mist of the blue sea.
What does it seek in that strange and distant land?
What has it already lost in its own native land?
The waves are heaving, the wind is whistling
And the mast with a squeak is getting bend.
Alas,- the sail does not strive for happiness
And it’s really not happiness that it does abandon.
Under it there is the -clearer than the azure- stream,
Over it there are the solar golden rays,
Still, the restless sail looks for only the tempest,
As if the tempest had a rest.
How much better to live
To that, my dear fellow,
Who is not ill with stupid passions,
Who has no time to fall in love,
Who is busy with all
Or who is pleased with everything.
He knows neither grief nor sorrow;
His fun is endless and infinite,
Carefree one, having created
Mentally his own seraglio,
He is blissfully happy in it.
Lord is perception and Love is His the loveliest face.
Make light of yourself and
Still be aware of your worth.
Blest are the meek,
For they shall inherit the earth.
I speak to you, America,
The broken away half of land,-
In the seas of ungodliness be afraid
And fear to launch the iron craft!
It’s hard to wear the heavy crown of the ancient monarch.
My Lord, still who are to reign and rule the nation?
That’s more than not too old legend, but one believe it not.
I did meet you and all the past in my died away heart has revived,
I remembered a golden time, it's become so warm for my heart...
As if in the late fall it time from time happened the days or some hours,
When it suddenly wafts in the spring and something within us stirs.
Thus, wholly shipped in atmosphere of those years of spiritual fullness,
With for a long time forgotten ecstasy I look at these lovely features.
As though after centuries of separation I stared at you as if in a dream,
And here-the sounds never resting in me became more clearly audible.
This is not mere remembrance, that's life began talking again,
And now the same to us glamour and also the same love in my soul.
(2181) Вячеслав Чеканов, Россия A very old, secret as a crime and highly treasured fairy-tale about a resourceful fisherman, his quarrelsome wife, a little fish and the deep blue sea.
Only since my lyre arouses good feelings, people shall be for ever pleased with me.
He is blissful, who believes-it’s warm to him in living in the world.
Woe be to them who grumbles without having thrown off the shackles of their sins or their vices.
Listen, kids, I have a tale to tell you, it came down to us from the good old days: once upon a time many ages ago there lived an old man alone together with his old woman right beside the blue sea that was like a beautiful golden dream. They’d happily lived on short commons in their tumbledown earth-house for exactly three and thirty years, if a day, and didn’t twiddle their thumbs but so that to make a living the Old Man worked his guts out and fished everyday with his sweep-net as well as the Old Woman span her yarn for sale. In one the most exceedingly lovely and lucky Sunday morning at an ungodly hour when still in the sky the stars was shining and the crescent moon was seen the Old Man in very high spirits once threw out his sweep-net into the sea, it got back with nothing but slime. Another time he flung it, the sweep-net was back with nothing but seaweed. Well then, the third time the Old Man cast his sweep-net, it came back with nothing but a little fish, not an ordinary one but an exquisite irradiant golden thing. And then all of a sudden, would you believe it, the Little Golden Fish besought him, it said in human voice: ’Could you please, my dear old fellow, let me go free into the deep blue sea! I would be no end obliged, if you would do it. I shall give you the costly ransom for myself and buy off in anything at all you badly wish and like‘. At the first place the Old Man looked greatly amazed and with hair erect was even scared out of his wits: he’d fished at least for three and thirty years, yet never heard that any fish should speak. However, here a bright and affectionate smile that seemed to reveal his whole sweet soul came to his lips, he released the Little Golden Fish and from the bottom of his heart said to it endearing words: ’Lord love you, my darling little one? I hardly wish you any harm. By no means I need your ransom. Really there’s nothing I want more than that you should be happy and contented. Please, return into the deep and under widespread scope of the sea just do everything with pleasure and enjoy yourself in freedom.’
The Old Man came back to the Old Woman and in the simplicity of his heart made a clean breast and told her frankly a great miracle, thereby he added fuel to the flames and let himself in for a sea of trouble: ‘Believe it or not, that’s the time of day! Just fancy, today I was on the point of netting a little fish, not an ordinary one but an exquisite irradiant golden thing. The Little Golden Fish spoke plainly in our way. It asked to be allowed to go home into the deep blue sea and was about to pay off a high price in anything at all I’d badly wish and like. I didn’t dare to take its ransom but let it go into the sea for nothing!’ There the Old Man was given a fairly good scolding by his old woman, she flung a fact into her husband’s teeth: ’You don’t say! Beyond belief but if this be true, oh you’re a simpleton, I’m awfully surprised at you! Look here! Well, you are a proper fool, indeed. You wasn’t able to take the ransom from the little fish! With the same result you, gull liver, could at least have taken a new wash-tub even if just for fun from it. Why, after all, ours has entirely split’.
And so he went to the sea and beheld: the blue sea rose slightly. He began calling the Little Golden Fish, it came swimming to him and asked: ‘Hail, my dear old fellow, what do you want? Can I be of service to you? Just say the word, I’m ready to do whatever you wish!’ Bowing low the Old Man answered it restlessly: ‘Your Excellency Lord Fish, have mercy on us! Please, be so nice as to do us a kindness! My old woman have scolded me and disturbed the peace of my mind. She wants a new wash-tub, now as ours has utterly split’. The Little Golden Fish replied definitely to him with favor: ‘It will be all right on the night. Don’t get excited. You shall have a new wash-tub. What’s there to be unsure about? Take heart, go and may Heaven bless you!’ The Old Woman had already had a new wash-tub, when the Old Man came back to his wife. Yet she apparently wasn’t quite satisfied and scolded him even worse than in former time, that’s why to tell you the truth he was greeted with a turbulent stream of abuse. ‘Oh you’re a simpleton! Well, who would have thought it! That knocks me, by all that’s blue! I say, you, fool, have got the wash -tub. I’m very happy, glad and delighted to hear the news, but that’s the question: what on earth is any real profit or use of it? Will you, dolt, return to the Little Golden Fish, bow low and try to get a peasant’s cottage at least, since I want to live in comparative material comfort’.
So he went to the sea, the blue sea grew turbid. He began calling the Little Golden Fish, the fish came swimming to him and asked: ‘Hail, my dear old fellow, what do you want? Can I be of service to you? Just say the word and I will do whatever you tell me to’. The Old Man bowed low and answered it restlessly: ‘Your Excellency Lord Fish, please help us and have mercy on us! Could you be so nice as to do a good turn? My old woman have scolded me more than in last time and disturbed the peace of my mind. Now this shrew asks for a cottage’. The Little Golden Fish said to him gently in reply: ‘Let it be so, sure thing you shall have your cottage. Take it easy, go and may success attend you!’ The Old Man went deliberately back to their wretched hole, but in the twinkling of an eye the earth-house had vanished into thin air. Well, you can easily imagine his surprise. The Old Man stood like a dummy blinking with his eyelashes lost in wonder. He felt completely puzzled and dazed and could scarcely trust his own eyes: a cottage with an attic, a whitewashed brick chimney and oaken board gates lay before him. In the shade of the bush of a brittle willow the Old Woman leaning her elbow and stroking with satisfaction her full stomach sat on the bench under the window. She swore blue murder at her husband, in all his born days he’d never heard anything like this: ‘Oh you duffer! What a score, just think of it! I walk on air. You, poor fish, have got the cottage, this is quite something! There isn’t that lovely! Really and truly, one must be a jolly fool to do it! Will you, oaf, return and bow to the Little Golden Fish. I don’t want to be a common peasant woman, but desire to live life of ease as a noble lady’.
The Old Man went to the sea, the blue sea got troubled. He began calling the Little Golden Fish, it came swimming to him and asked: ‘Hail, my dear old fellow, what do you want? Can I be of service to you? Just say the word, I’m ready to do whatever you wish!’ The Old Man bowed low and answered it restlessly: ‘Your Excellency Lord Fish, please help us and have mercy on us! Would you be so nice as to do a good deed? My old woman have grown more silly then she was formerly and disturbed the peace of my mind. Since she took to nagging me I haven’t enjoyed even a moment’s rest. Now she doesn’t want to be a common peasant woman any longer, but desires to be a noble lady. The Little Golden Fish said to him kindly in reply: ‘Don’t be too fussy and go on so! It shall be as you wish. Make yourself easy on this point I shall attend to it. More power to your elbow!’
The Old Man returned to his wife. Well, and what did he see? If you don’t know, don’t guess and jump to conclusions. On the top of the cliff there soared a high ivory tower, ravens had built their nest on its roof. Being in an expensive sable-lined sleeveless jacket, a brocade headdress and with a massive pearl necklace the Old Woman giving herself airs stood on the steps. She was wearing nice little shoes and great many all kinds gold finger-rings decorated with the rare fantastic brilliant genuine jewels. Before her there were her assiduous attendants. They sweated blood to suit her. She lorded it over them, named them rascals, beat them eagerly and pulled by the forelock. ’Well, and how are you getting on, my dear lady? You look fine! Most probably now you’re quite satisfied!’ ' Are you kidding? Go on! You don’t mean it. What the joker’s jests! One ought to know: it all depends’, then the Old Woman gave her husband a rap on the knuckles and put him to work at the stables.
And thus about a week or a fortnight went. The Old Woman became still more stupid than she had been previously and sent the Old Man to the Little Golden Fish again: ‘Will you kindly return and bow to the Little Golden Fish. I don’t want to be a noble lady, but most ardently desire to live in grand style, so that they to make a fuss of me as a sovereign queen!’ The Old Man was afraid and implored her: ‘Ah me, wife, you will drive me mad. Have you taken leave of your senses? How crazy can get? No, do you really think it is feasible? You have neither an imposing bearing nor any correct articulation and will make the laughing-stock of yourself for the whole kingdom!’ The Old Woman got more angry and out of spite splendidly fetched him a box on the ear, a whole skin of his cheek had been terribly burnt. And then like out of the frying-pan into the fire: ‘That’s the limit! What impudence! Hold your tongue and shut your mouth! How dare you, fisherman, contradict me? I’m a lady! Let me give you some advice, do you hear, I’ll thank you not to argue with me and to split hairs. There’s one thing more, blockhead, that I must tell you. You are not attending at all. Listen, rogue, to me when I speak. There’s no standing still. So you’d better go to the sea while the going’s good. Also, mind you don’t put your foot in it and make a real mess of things. Take care of playing square, or else, it’s quite likely you’ll have to go against your will’.
The Old Man went to the sea, the blue sea became black. He began calling the Little Golden Fish, it came swimming to him and asked: ‘Hail, my dear old fellow, what do you want? Can I be of service to you? Just say the word, I’m ready to do whatever you wish!’ The Old Man bowed low and answered it restlessly: ‘Your Excellency Lord Fish, have mercy! Pardon and help us! Would you mind doing a great favor? My old woman is in a white rage again, she doesn’t want to be a noble lady any longer, but desires to be a sovereign queen’. The Little Golden Fish said to him nicely in reply: ‘Don’t worry, be happy! You may well rest assured. The Old Woman shall be a queen. Cheer up, go and may God help you!’
In the next place the Old Man came back home. Well, and what was all that? Little he dreamt such a thing was possible. The powerful impregnable walls of a king’s castle there rose before his astonished eyes. In the castle he saw his old woman, she sat on the throne in the state-room as a queen. The dukes and the earls richly dressed in smart clothes regarded it high honor to serve her. They poured with much consideration good foreign wine into her goblet. Imagine that, Great Scott, the Old Woman was given to the bottle! She drank wine as a fish and tasted a piece of the gilt sweet honey gingerbread after it. The redoubtable able-bodied black-bearded bodyguard with halberds stood around swaggering in a prodigious number. They held their formidable arms over their square broad shoulders. When the Old Man had seen them he was so highly frightened that he bowed down to the very ground before his old woman: ’How goes it, my terrible queen? Well, I see you’re doing fine! I wonder now whether you can be feeling inclined to sing delirious with delight?’ But the Old Woman didn’t even bat an eyelid and give him so much as a glance. In fact, she merely bade to get him directly taken out of her sight. Here straight away at short notice a whole crowd of nobles came tearing up. They caught the Old Man by the scruff of the neck and chucked him exultantly out. Then in the passage the bodyguard ran rapidly up and very nearly killed him with their sharp halberds. After a while in the market-place the common folk jeered and sneered and had a fling and a tilt at him: ’It serves you right, old lout! Next time you, boor, shall keep your distance! The cobbler must stick to his last!’
And thus about a month or two passed. The Old Woman lost definitely her reason and became unusually crazy. She sent her courtiers out for her husband. They found the Old Man and brought him around to her. Here quite unexpectedly the Old Man let himself go and behaved with complete abandon. You’ve got to hand it him for dauntless courage, because he rose above himself on tiptoes, even if that’s not the way to behave to a queen. Without a moment’s hesitation he had the nerve to put her a question: ’Well, and what the deuce are you wanting this time, I wonder?’ Yet the Old Woman contrived to take him down a peg and to bring him to heel, she hit with her fist on the table and wagged her finger at him. Then she said sheer nonsense to the Old Man’s face: ’What a load of old cobblers! That’s rich. Don’t pull my leg and talk at random and out of turn. I have a bone to pick with you. Let’s be frank. Most certainly, hangdog, this is your last chance. Don’t throw it away. Now then, blackguard, return at once and bow to the Little Golden Fish. And out mind be quick about it! I don’t want to be a sovereign queen, but my only cherished hope is to steal the show: I desire to be Mistress of the Seas and to live in the boundless ocean, so that the very Little Golden Fish should serve me and run on my indispensable errands’.
'Not bloody likely! I won’t hear of it and entertain such a foolish idea’, the Old Man thought to himself. Still he didn’t venture on to contradict her and dare to argue her out of this course of action. For, if you know what I mean-it’s plain as the nose on your face, the Old Woman being mad with rage, knitting badly her brows nailed the Old Man thoroughly down and he only shook obstinately his head in silence. He did go then to the sea and beheld: the blue sea was raging like hell! The storm-clouds spread themselves over the sky. There were huge angry waves heaving and a strong fierce gale raving and howling. No ship could live in such a rough sea. He began calling the Little Golden Fish, it came swimming to him and asked: ’Hail, my dear old fellow, well met! What can I do for you? Just say the word, I shall arrange all things as you wish and like’. Bowing low the Old Man answered it restlessly: ’Please help us and have mercy on us, your Excellency! Would you render a good grace? What the mischief am I to do with this awful scold of wife? She doesn’t want to be a sovereign queen any longer, but it’s her sole and exclusive desire to be Mistress of the Seas and to live in the boundless ocean, so that you, Lord Fish, should bow to her whims, dance attendance upon her and rush on her wild errands. I would be very, very grateful, if you would. I should never forget your kindness’. Nevertheless the Little Golden Fish said absolutely nothing in reply. Only splashing with its tail of irradiant scales on the water it silently dived into the deep blue sea. Right away the storm had calmed down as quick as a flash of lightning. In vain on the shore of the sea on his bended knees after that quite a while the Old Man had been patiently waiting for answer till he couldn’t wait any longer! ‘Oh well, that’s, so to speak, that then. It seems to me that my good luck is played out. Well, I never. Just go ahead. It can’t be that hard. And even if it were so, why should I care! What I’ve got to do with it? But after all, it’s not the end of the world and then from me all like water off a duck’s back . It is as it is. Come what may. Let it be. Things are working round in my favor. Well, actually anything may happen, but all the same it will turn out well somehow‘, in long run he said to himself and pretending that nothing was wrong he went back to his old woman. And now, what the blazes? Lo and behold! Funky shit, it made his flesh creep and took his breath away. The tears rose to his eyes. Drops of sweat stood on his forehead. At last he spat and burst out laughing: ‘Well, to be sure!’ And what did all this mean? Their miserable earth-house was there before him again, the Old Woman upset utterly down, supporting her chin on the palm of her hand, sat lost in reverie on the threshold ( ‘They always say: there’s no justice in the world. But there’s no one in the beyond! I can see that with the utmost clarity, just as if it were a common scale…’) and the exact same split wash-tub, pretty kettle of fish and a rather dirty trick of fortune, lay just in front of her as far as the arm could reach. Well, my dear friends, and what the dickens one can say to that? It stands to reason: the morning sun never lasts a day!
Although as a matter of fact the fairy-tale might well be a lie, yet it contains a suggestion of truth which can serve some lesson for the youth. Even if it takes an old hand to do a good job, however, the wisest of the wise may err! What does it matter? Well, actually anything may happen ( keep well, God grant you health and peace to the world, I don’t know how but it works ). Let it go! Take it in your stride. Don’t do more than you can help. Let well alone. While there is a life, there is a hope. Mind your business, sit still. So far, so good. That will do, as it is for the time being. Rivet your attention on that: when you look for perfection, you will never be satisfied. It’s no use crying over spilt milk. Good riddance! All isn’t so as it appears, everything is as it should be. Be glad of what you get and don’t grieve about what you haven’t. Lord is alive and also your soul does. The life is but a span and all we need is Love! Yet what more do we need? We need calm and confidence. Wherever may you be far and wide always consider yourself in your element. Take it easy. Who can tell? Why not? We must forgive and forget. By giving up a little, we gain a lot. Let’s come down to earth, not all is absurd that you cannot understand: make light of yourself and still be aware of your worth ( the fish is small, but the ocean’s great ). Let it be, trust in luck: all is well in this the best of the worlds; but if it doesn’t fit, the shop will change it for another size. Remember your death, don’t tremble for your bum. May the best man win. Rest easy, keep simple and cool. There’s no another choice but to valiantly fight. The dead as they say are not ashamed ( live free or die ). But never mind! To the greater glory of Lord we're sure to break through and will come out with the flying colors. Just take off-hand your course quite unconcerned. Sink or swim. Suit yourself, it’s up to you. He that forecasts all perils will never sail the sea. Turn over a new leaf, that’s the first day of the rest of your life. Every cloud has a silver lining. Take all responsibility for your life upon yourself. Make a virtue of necessity. The trees grow even on the rocks. Everything can be turned into your favor. Any wares have their buyers. ( If they're marketed in the right way, they’ll sell very well. ) Some things in life take time, so don’t give up too soon trying. The more you sweat in training, the less you’ll bleed in battle. Look what kindness can do ( one stare is worth a thousand words ): when you‘re smiling, the world smiles at you and things are getting on swimmingly. Take care of an instant and eternity shall take care of itself. Trust, persistence and work will result in success, the secret here is really simple enough: to all that you do one ought to concern with soul and heart!
There is no limit to perfection and a master always has something what to study. I’m an apt sharp pupil, I’m a capable successful perpetual student. I’m smart Aleck, I’m Atman-the omnipresent ghost, I’m an arrow flying to the target. It’s easy and dogged who does it. Slowly but surely water like love or life shall always find its way. The very ticket! I will overcome all in the world without fail. Much harder than the rock with care that answers the purpose in succession, sensibly and to the point everything I can handle properly. I know, know perfectly well that I still has nothing comprehended except that that I know nothing. What of it? What difference does it make? Step by step I proceed to love and accept myself such as I am. But then I learn thoroughly well, and that’s enough for clever. However that may be-all well and good and deep purple to me. There are good reasons for it. The more difficult is the problem that one have of his own accord, the more is one’s honor. This is a big deal. I can compare with the best and I am tougher of the rest. Why, after all, genius is merely an infinite capacity for taking pains. You must do it yourself ( it seems easy until you really try it ). Say what you like but I have a good time. All is well. I’m happy with everything, to nowhere hasten and don’t count on anything. It is truly a great experience and now here enjoying myself I feel so almighty comfortable. If only you, Alexander Pushkin, will excuse me for this extremely free translation. Please, don’t take it amiss. The sun is never the worse, you see, for shining on a dunghill. Love for God! That is it! Long live the queen! I love and accept the world such as it is! Well, and how do you like it?
(2843) Вячеслав Чеканов, Россия On the curved sea-shore there is an evergreen oak; on the oak is hung up a golden chain: all day and night the versed tame cat keeps stalking on the chain around; when it goes to the right it begins to sing a song, when it goes to the left it proceeds to tell a tale.
There are so many various miracles there: the wood-goblin wanders and the siren on the branches sits; on the unknown paths there are the traces of unprecedented beasts; the cabin without doors and windows there lies on piles; there woods and dales are full of ghosts; there waves gush over the both sandy and empty coast and thirty fine handsome heroes with their marine drill-master in single file leave clear waters; there a young prince off-hand takes the terrible king prisoner; there in the clouds in the face of people the sorcerer bears away the warrior-champion through woods and seas; there in the dark dungeon a beautiful princess bitterly grieves and the brown wolf faithfully serves her; there the morter of wood with the hag-witch moves by itself; there the covetous king over gold withers; there is the free spirit there... it there smells with freedom.
(4571) Вячеслав, Россия As if it were now the Smart Helg is going to revenge the imprudent Khazars; their villages and their fields for the violent raid he has doomed to the swords and the fires; surrounded with his bodyguard the Great Duke in the Constantinople armor in front of the host rides his true steed. From the dark woods to meet him an inspired magician walks out; the old man versed of the future events worships only Perun. In prayer and divination he has spent all his life. And so the Smart Helg has approached on the wise aged man.-«Tell me, magician, the favorite of gods what will come true in the life with me? How soon for glad and delight of the enemies-neighbors I will be filled up by the burial earth? Tell me the truth, do not fear or be frightened of me: as the award you may take any horse.»-«The wizards are not afraid of the mighty mundane lords and they have no need in the princely gifts; their prophetic tongues are both truthful and free, and friendly with the will of heaven. The future years are concealed in a haze; but I can see your lot on the bright forehead.Listen, remember my word: for a warrior fame is joy; the great victory has grorified your name; there is your shield on the Constantinople's gates; neither the waves nor the land are disobedient to you; foes envy such marvellous destiny. Your horse is not scared of the dangerous deeds; he is feeling the master's will, now quiet he stands still under the enemy's arrows, now rushes at top of speed as an arrow on the battlefield. He doesn't care a straw about both the cold and the skirmish of slashing… And still you are to accept the death from your steed.»-«Farewell, my companion, my devoted servant, it's time for us to part; have a rest now! No foot will step in your gilded stirrups. Farewell, be consoled-yet mind out, do remember me.» -«You, pages, get away the steed.»At the top of a high mound the Smart Helg and his warriors feast clinking with the cheerful goblets. As morning snow are white their curls. They recollect the past times and the battles where they with enemies fighted. -«Where's my comrade?» — said the Smart Helg.-«Tell me, where's my true steed? Whether does he keep well? Is still his gait easy and steady? Is yet he the same frisky and playful?» In reply the Smart Helg hears: -«Your true steed has long since fallen asleep into the dead dream on some steep hill.» Mighty Helg his head drooped and thinks: -«What is divination? Magician, you are the false, mad old man! If I despised your prediction, I would up till now rode my fast steed.» And so he wishes to see the bones of his dead horse.The Great Duke steps on his horse's skull quietly saying: -«Sleep, my lonely friend! Your old master has endured you: at the funeral feast, not far off, it's not you will empurple feather grass with your blood under the axe’s finishing stroke and give my ashes to drink. So that's where my doom was concealed! Well, to be sure! A bone threatened me with the death!» From the scull a deadly snake hissing meanwhile creeps out; as a black ribbon it wraps his leg round and suddenly stung the Smart Helg screams. > |
Читать далее→ |
||||||
Если Вы заметили орфографическую ошибку, выделите ее мышью и нажмите Ctrl+Enter.
|
©Журнал «Кругозор», Все права защищены
©Copyright «Krugozor», Inc. |
|
Копирование публикаций в интернете приветствуется, но при наличии гиперссылки на www.krugozormagazine.com и гиперссылки на страницу заимствуемой публикации. При репродуцировании в печатных изданиях - при непременном указании: «Независимый международный интернет-журнал «Кругозор» www.krugozormagazine.com». Коммерческое использование возможно только после согласования с редакцией «Кругозора». Мнение авторов публикация не всегда совпадает с мнением редакции. Ответственнось за содержание рекламы несёт рекламодатель. |
||||
|
|
|||
