• Язык:
    Немецкий (Deutsch)
Источник:
  • Four Centuries. Russian Poetry in Translation, 13, 2016

Krieg

Война

Wie ein Hund an der schweren Kette
Kläfft am Wald das Maschinengewehr,
Uns wie Bienen summen Schrapnelle,
Von dem hellroten Honig schwer.

Ferne Hurrarufe wie Lieder
Von Schnittern -- sie kehren heim
Am Ende des Tags, die Siedlung
Im gütigen Abendschein.

Und in Wahrheit heilig, erhaben
Nimmt der hehre Krieg seinen Lauf.
Seraphime, mit Flügeln schlagend,
Leuchten hinter den Kriegern auf.

Die Arbeiter, langsam schreitend
Durch Felder, von Blut benetzt,
Um mit Heldenmut Ruhm zu ernten —
O Herrgott, segne sie jetzt.

Wie die Pflüger, gebeugt von Schmerzen,
Wie einer, der Trauer spürt,
So brennen vor Dir ihre Herzen
Als wächserne Kerzen erglüht.

Doch höre, o Herr, Du sollst geben
Die Stunde, die Sieger begrüßt,
Dem, der den bezwungenen Gegner
Als Bruder umarmt und küsst.

Другие переводы:

  • Английский
    Руперт Мортон
    War
  • Болгарский
    Бойко Ламбовски
    Война
  • Венгерский
    Иштван Бака
    Háború
  • Польский
    Тадеуш Рубникович
    Wojna
  • Словацкий
    Ян Квапил
    Vojna

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