• Язык:
    Словацкий (Slovak)



Pútnik, tisíce míľ od vlasti
bez peňazí i priateľov
nepočuješ sladkú muziku
materinského jazyka.

Vôkol je však krásna príroda,
a preto nie si nešťastný.
Spev vtákov, čo hniezdia v korunách -
znie ti snáď ako cudzia reč?

No keď zahrá flauta jesene
a zatrilkujú cikády,
keď sa oblak zjaví na nebi
a zväčšuje sa ako drak,

ty pochopíš všetok zármutok,
žiaľ, ktorý ti je súdený,
a v myšlienkach k vlasti zaletíš,
cloniac si oči dlaňami.

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Майя Журавель

А вот еще:

Remember the palace of giants…

Remember the palace of giants, / The pool, full of silvery fish, / Alleys of planes, the highest, / And keeps made of huge stone bricks; / / As my golden horse at the towers / Was prancing, so proud and strong, / And gems decorated his harness / In patterns of delicate work. / / ...

The ship

"What d' you see in my eyes, slightly sparkling, / In my look, hazed with opaque mist?" / "There I saw the sea's deepest darkness / With a big sunken beautiful ship. / / That fine ship... More glorious and braver / None had seen over deep of the sea. / Its high masts under windbreath ...

A fragment of «Tale of Kings»

Once a dark horseman oh a black horse came / He was clad in a black velvet cloak, full of pride. / And his look was so dreadful, as a town aflame, / And so glaring as a flash in the night. / / Curly hair upon shoulders like serpents did twist, / And his voice was a song of the earth and...


Today, I can see that your glance is especially sad, / And hands are especially thin and the hair if up fluff. / Hey, listen, as far as in Africa, down at lake Chad / Is walking a graceful Giraffe. / / He's owing that elegance, slender and languor he is, / Such beautiful patterns are sh...

The Gates of Paradise

There are no seven diamond seals to close / the eternal gates of God's great paradise / it has no tempting charms, no beckoning glow / and to the people remains unrecognized. / / a doorway in a wall long since forsaken / a mass of stones and moss and nothing more. / nearby, a beggar, ...

A portrait of a man

His eyes are lightless underground lakes, / Abandoned castles of the ancient kings. / Marked with the sign of the eternal shame / Of that, the Other One, he never speaks. / The deepest wound, his mouth, dark and purple, / Made with a blade borne of the deadly poison; / And it is sad and ...