• Язык:
    Новонорвежский (Nynorsk)

Isgang

Ледоход

Øyane hadde alt tatt på
ein gjennomsiktig vår som lyste,
men nei, Neva, ho er så brå.
Så lett ho skifter og blir dyster.

Gå opp på brua og sjå ned:
isflak etter flak seg kastar,
giftiggrønne syng dei med
ei gruvekkande slangerasling.

Mot geografen slåst ein drøm
der desse tynger tanken hans,
ukjende kontinent på svøm
der omriss skifter utan stans.

Slik luktar det av råskne soppar,
ei lukt så svak og svevande,
i kjellarar med løynde kroppar
der berre frosk går levande.

Elva er sjuk i feberduren.
Det finst berre ein som ser det
går hans veg, i villdyrburet,
den kvite isbjørnen, han gler det.

Han veit han ikkje er ein slave
at fengslet hans er tankespinn:
Og nå kjem sjølve Nordishavet
og stør han så han fridom vinn.

Другие переводы:


А вот еще:

Beatrice

Muses, enough, cease your sobbing, / Pour out your grief into singing, / Sing about Dante soul-stirring, / Or play the flute, play with feeling. / / Move on, annoying faun deities, / Music is dead in your screaming! / Haven’t you learned only lately / Beatrice exited Eden....

Yet All But Once

Yet all but once you’ll reminisce of me / And of my world mysterious and thrilling, / The quirky world of songs and fervency, / But among all, unique and undeceiving. / / It could have been yours also, but alas, / It was too much for you, or was too scanty, / I must have ...

Autumn

An orange-red sky... / A gusty wind shakes / The bloody cluster of rowan berries. / I chase the fleeing horse / Past the glass hothouse, / Past the trellises of the old park, / And past the swan pond. / Alongside me runs / My shaggy, red-haired dog, / Who is dearer to me / Than e...

Cain’s Descendants

He didn’t deceive us, that sad, somber spirit / Who wears the morning star as pseudonym / And said: "Shun not the highest gain, nor fear it: / Taste of the fruit and you will equal Him." / / Instantly, for the youth, all roads lay open, / And for old men, all mysteries to know, / ...

The Worker

He’s standing there, beside the glowing furnace, / A small man, probably older than you’d think. / His gaze is peaceful, seems almost submissive / From the way his reddened eyelids blink. / / All his workmates have knocked off - they’re sleeping / But he’s still ...

The Lost Tram

I was walking an obscure route / And abruptly I heard caws of crows, / A distant thunder and a tinkling lute: / A rushing tram was really close. / / How I leapt to its step / Is still a mystery to me. / It left a fiery track beyond itself / Which even in the daylight I could see. ...