• Язык:
    Словацкий (Slovak)



O. N. Vysotskej

Raz sedeli sme pri pohári vína,
keď vošiel vezír, objednal si whisky,
vysoký sivý vezír, levantínsky,
ktorého kresťan má priam za zlosyna.

«Dosť!» vykríkol som od pohára chianti,
«vážený, neohŕňajte tu pysky,
v čase, keď – ako vravia obelisky –
v zelenom šere kráča Damajanti.»

Dupol však nohou, pritom skríkol: «Baba!
Či neviete, že čierny kameň kaaba
za podvrh vyhlásili, za chiméru?»

Potom sa zamyslel a bez nálady
plačlivo šepol: «Teraz myši žerú
tri slávne chlpy z prorokovej brady.»

Другие переводы:

  • Сербский
    Миломир Булатович
  • Украинский
    Катерина Маслик

А вот еще:


I know a woman, full of silence, / Her bitter weariness from words, / Dwells in mysterious, blinking eyelids / Their widened pupils, secret worlds. / Her soul is greedily wide open / To copper music of sweet verse. / To life, that’s worldly, pleasant often, / She’s deaf and...

The Red Sea

Greetings, Red Sea, shark soup, / Negro bath, sand cauldron! / Like stone cactus flowers / limestone, not moss, blooms on your cliffs. / / Sea-monsters swept up by the tide lie dying / in anguish, out on your islands / in the burning sand: octopi, tritons, swordfish. / / From Afr...

The Sick Man

Only one thing torments my delirium: / how certain sharp lines go on for ever, / and a bell rings and rings and rings / like a clock marking off eternity. / / Just so, after death, / eyes stare into darkness / (the agonized hope of resurrection) / trying to see familiar visions. / ...


This country could have been paradise: / it’s a den of fire. / We've been advancing for four days, / we’ve not eaten for four days. / / In this strange, bright hour / we don’t need earth’s bread: / the Lord’s Word / is better nourishment. / / The b...

The Cathedral at Padua

Marvellous, and sad - yes, that’s what this temple / is - a joy, a temptation, a threat. / Eyes exhausted with desire / bum in the slits of confessional windows. / / The organ melody rises, falls, / then swells fuller and more terrible, / like blood in dark church-granite veins ...

The Sun of the Spirit

How could we walk in peace, before, / expecting no joy, no disaster, / not dreaming of battles, of flaming retreats, / or the roaring trumpet of victory ? / / How could we - but it’s not too late, / the sun of the spirit bends down to us - / soothing, threatening, it pours / a...