• Язык:
    Новонорвежский (Nynorsk)

Barndom

Детство

Som barn elska eg enger store
som søte av honning låg,
i skogsnar var eg på sporet
av oksehorn gøymde blant strå.

Kvar busk, grå i vegkantstøvet,
ropte: «Eg leiker med deg,
gå varsamt ikring meg, prøv meg,
og eg seier kven eg er, eg!»

Den haustlige, ville vinden
lét leiken ta slutt da den kvein,
og hjartet slo lenger inne
i lykka, og eg var ikkje ein

Som døde, for vennene mine
borre og hestehov var,
og bakom himlane hine
vil eg brått gjette alle svar.
Og derfor er det eg elskar
den tordnande leiken krig:
vårt blod er ikkje meir heilagt
enn smaragd som i grassevja stig.

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Бартон Раффел, Алла Бураго
    Сhildhood
  • Артур Лехман
    Childhood
  • Польский
    Тадеуш Рубникович
    Dzieciństwo
  • Чешский
    Ярослав Кабичек
    Dětství
  • Мария Марчанова
    Dětství

А вот еще:

The Octave

No whisper of a midnight distance, / Nor when a mother sang a tune - / We've never understood an instance, / Which's worth being better understood. / The symbol of the Father's greatness - / A kind of gracious advice - / To you, the Poet, is presented: / Your tongue is tied, your speec...

War

To M. M. Chichagov / / Like a dog that strains on heavy halter / Rifle yaps across the forest now, / Bee-like, buzzing shrapnel doesn’t falter, / Gathering bright red honey from the bough. / / In the distance, though, "Hurrah" is sounding / Like the reapers’ singing wh...

The tip of willow tree was blackened...

The tip of willow tree was blackened, / For rooks protruded from its crown, / In azure sky-dale there they slackened - / The sheepish clouds grazed on its down. / And you, with gaze of resignation, / Announced: "I am in love with you." / Like sea was grass’s oscillation, / At one...

Evening

How thick, how wingless an evening! / A sunset like a cracked melon. / / You almost want to shove / those limp clouds along. / / Slow evenings like this, / coachmen whip their horses to a gallop, / / Fishermen tear at the waves with their oars, / woodsmen chop like mad / / ...

It Wasn’t Living

It wasn’t living, I wasted / half my life / - and then, Lord, You came to me / like this, in an impossible dream. / / I see light on Mount Tabor / and my heart hurts / with love for the land and the sea / and the whole tree-dark dream of existence, / / My heart hurts tha...

Did I Murder My Father

Did I murder my father, murder my mother, / in some other life ? / Yes, oh immortal, eternal God, yes! or how / could I deserve this disgrace of suffering? / / I lead a life as peaceful as death, / everything I do belongs to someone else, nothing / to me-except a languid, worthless, /...