• Язык:
    Новонорвежский (Nynorsk)



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:

Oh, How Silent Is the Nature…

From "Canzone Three" / / Oh, how silent is the nature, / It only looks and only hears, / The people's spirit in a rapture / Clings to a freedom -- fast and fierce. / / This planet will forget offences / Of him who trades, of him who kills, / And, as in reminiscences, / ...

Only Serpents Let Their…

From "Remembrance" / / Only serpents let their skin be fallen / And a soul - all grown up and old. / We, alas, change an eternal soul, / Leaving body in eternal hold. / / Oh, remembrance, power, she-giant, / You direct a horse-life with a bridle, / You will tell me all these men ...

The Other One

I wait for, full of thoughts provoking, / But not a gay and pretty wife, / Not the sincere and gentle talking / About the old time and life. / / And not a mistress: I am bored / With languor whispers, languor looks, / And with delights, a lot and more, / And more tortures that I ...

The Prophets

There are the modern prophets here, / Though altars totally are felt, / Their eyes are very deep and clear - / In them, the flame of future set. / / For them, the calls of fame are alien, / They’re pressed by mass and depth of words, / All they are frightened, pale and sulle...

Reader Of Books

My dear friend, and I have tried to find / My paradise in serfdom of a soul, / I liked them all - the odd ways of a mind / Without hopes, or memories, or goals. / / Promptly to glide along the brooks of lines, / To enter into straits of chapters, slow, / To watch a foam on the flows&...

The Right Way

Birth of the word is by agony molded, / Through earthly life it is quietly going, / It is a stranger, which drinks from the golden / Pitcher the drops of the savages’ mourning. / / Go to Nature! The Nature is hostile, / All here is frightening, all is in fullness, / ...