• Язык:
    Азербайджанский (Azərbaycan)
Источник:

Sonet

Сонет

Görünür xəstəyəm: qəlbimdə duman,
Hər şey, hər söz-söhbət qəlbimi sıxır.
Yuxuma girirlər yanar almazlar,
Bir də qana batmış önlü yatağan.

Mənə elə gəlir /bu deyil yalan,
Babam olub mənim qıyıqgöz tatar,
O mərhəmətsiz hun… Məni bu azar
Əsrlərdən keçib çulğayıb yaman.

Susur, darıxıram, görürəm: budur
Yandırır qayanı günəşin odu.
Ağappaq ağarıb dəniz köpükdən,

Mavi gümbəzlərlə bəzənmiş şəhər,
Bağlarında təzə açmış çiçəklər –
Vuruşmuşduq orda… Və... ölmüşdüm mən.

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Евгений Бонвер
    Sonnet
  • Испанский
    Вера Виноградова
    Soneto
  • Хосе Матео, Ксения Дьяконова
    Soneto
  • Немецкий
    Ирмгард Вилле
    Sonett
  • Грузинский
    Василий Гулеури
    სონეტი
  • Джерсийский
    Герайнт Дженнигс
    Sonnet

А вот еще:

Canzonet 3

How quiet Nature has gone! / All eyes, all ears. / Our spirit leans, leans / toward that final, awful freedom. / / And earth will forget how soldiers / hurt her, how merchants sinned, / and Druids will teach on green hills / as once, once before they taught. / / And poets will ...

Nature

Well, that’s her, that’s how she is: Nature, and the spirit / refuses to know her. / There’s the meadow, hung with the scent of honey / and a whiff of swamps, / / And the beginning wail of the wind, / like wolves in the distance, / and up over the fringes of pine / ...

Creation

My words spawned giants, / and they sat guzzling wine / all night, crimson wine, / horrible wine. / / I would not have known such weariness / had they been drinking my blood; / Dawn’s fingers were running across / my back when I fell asleep. / / I woke when it was evening...

Stockholm

I dreamed of Stockholm: why? / A restless, troubled dream / sprung from some different time, / almost a nightmare - almost... / / A holiday, maybe: who knows? / The bell kept clanging, that bell, / like a huge organ gone mad, / and a whole city praying, buzzing, roaring... / / ...

Sweden

Land of quick cold, / of forests and heavy-backed mountains, where / rumpled waterfalls / roar like prophets of doom - / / Sacred land, sacred forever, / do you still remember / when your grim-faced Varangians / went out across Europe to Greece? / / Is it right ? Can it be righ...

You and Me

Sure, I’m not good enough, / I come from the provinces, / I don’t strum a guitar / but blow an old reed flute. / / I don’t read poems in velvet rooms and red-plush / halls, to dark dresses and starched black coats; / I read to waterfalls, I read to dragons, / I rea...