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Thread: Crazy poetry

  1. #1
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    Crazy poetry

    I don't understand the last phrase :

    О, как мне дороги все те проказы,
    Когда, у матери стянув краюху хлеба,
    Кусали мы с тобой ее по разу,
    Ни капельки друг другом не погребав.


    "And never we buried it to one another?"

  2. #2
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    Yesenin meant "ни капельки не брезгуя друг другом".
    I can`t definetely say it in English, maybe "not straining at it"

    It means they (hero and his dog) bit one loaf of bread and didn`t care about they were biting it together. Perhaps the hero liked his dog very much and could divide his food with his 4-paws friend. He didn`t find it uncomfortable to eat with dog.
    Please correct my mistakes in English
    I like pigs. Dogs look UP to us. Cats look DOWN on us. Pigs treat us as EQUALS. (Winston Churchill)

  3. #3
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    I find this poem very difficult to understand especially if you aren`t native.
    I`m sure natives can`t understand some lines of this poem.
    I wonder have you translated the others lines from this poem yet?
    Я очень люблю родину!
    Хоть есть в ней грусти ивовая ржавь.

    Я только крепче жму тогда руками
    Моих волос качнувшийся пузырь.

    Синий свет, свет такой синий!
    В эту синь даже умереть не жаль.
    Ну так что ж, что кажусь я циником,
    Прицепившим к заднице фонарь!

    I`ve realised why you had written "Crazy poetry". You can`t translate it literally.
    Please correct my mistakes in English
    I like pigs. Dogs look UP to us. Cats look DOWN on us. Pigs treat us as EQUALS. (Winston Churchill)

  4. #4
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    Re: Crazy poetry

    Quote Originally Posted by wilco000
    Ни капельки друг другом не погребав.
    Не каждый русский это поймет.
    Я, например, такого слова не знаю.
    Догадалась бы только по контексту.
    In Russian, all nationalities and their corresponding languages start with a lower-case letter.

  5. #5
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    Here is a translation by Lyuba Coffey, it seems pretty accurate. What do you think ?


    Hooligan's Confession

    Not everyone can sing,
    Not everyone can fall
    Like an apple at a stranger's feet.

    This is the greatest confession,
    That a hooligan can have.

    I go unkempt on purpose,
    With my head, like a kerosene lamp, on my shoulders.
    The leafless autumn, your souls in darkness --
    I love to light.
    I like it when the stones of abuse
    Are hurled at me, like hail from a belching thunderstorm,
    I just grip all the tighter
    drew me, a moth to flames,

    With my hands -- the shaken bubble of my hair.

    How nice then for me to recall
    The overgrown pond, hoarse ring of the alder,
    That there, somewhere, live my father and mother,
    Who do not care for all my poems,
    To whom I am dear, like a field, like flesh,
    Like rain, that loosens the greens in spring.
    They would come to pierce you with a pitchfork
    For each insult of yours thrown at me.

    Poor, poor peasants!
    You must have become unattractive
    As before, afraid of God and the swamp's depths.
    Oh, if you could only understand
    That your son is in Russia
    Is the best poet!
    Wasn't it you, whose heart froze in fear of his life,
    When he was dipping his feet in the autumn ponds?
    And now he wears a top hat and patent leather shoes.

    But alive still is the fervor of a former conduct
    Of a country ruffian
    To each cow from the butcher's sigh
    He bows from afar.
    And having met the coachman in the square,
    Remembering the smell of dung from native fields,
    He is ready to don each horse's tail,
    Like the long trail of a wedding dress.

    I love my Motherland.
    I love my Motherland very much!
    Though there is some willow rust in it.
    Swine's soiled muzzles and toads' croaking calls in the night's stillness
    Are dear to me.
    I am weakly ill for such childhood memories,
    I dream of April's moist newness.
    As if our maple crouched to become warm
    Before the fire of dawn.
    Oh, how many eggs from crows' nests
    I stole, climbing on the boughs!
    Is it still the same, with its green crown?
    Is its bark still firm?

    And you, my favorite
    Devoted, piebald dog?!
    With age have you become whiny and blind
    Do you meander about the yard, dragging your flabby tail,
    Having lost your instinct for where the doors and shed are.
    Oh, how dear all these pranks are to me,
    When, having stolen bread from Mother's,
    You and I bit it in turns,
    Without deceiving each other at all.

    I am still the same.
    In my heart I am still the same.
    Like cornflowers in the rye, my eyes bloom in my face.
    Spreading like golden mats, my poems,
    I wish to relate tender thoughts to you.
    Good night!
    Good night to you all!
    The scythe of the twilights' dawn has sung out
    Today I very much want to piss
    The moon from the window.

    Blue light, light you are so blue!
    I am not sorry to die in such blue.
    So what if I appear to be a cynic,
    Having hooked a lantern on my ass!
    Old, kind, ridden off Pegasus
    Should I need your soft trot?
    I have come, like a stern maestro,
    And glorified and praised the rats.
    This noddle of mine, as with August,
    Rains with the wine of stormy hair.

    I desire to be the yellow sail
    To that country, we are sailing to.

  6. #6
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    I find that translation pretty good.

    I doubt only in that line:
    Without deceiving each other at all.
    Can it be translated as "не брезгуя друг другом"?

    And are you enjoying Yesenin`s poems?
    Please correct my mistakes in English
    I like pigs. Dogs look UP to us. Cats look DOWN on us. Pigs treat us as EQUALS. (Winston Churchill)

  7. #7
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    Re: Crazy poetry

    Ни капельки друг другом не погребав.
    погребав это не побрезговав....
    Это причастие от погребать - хоронить...

    Кто действительно понял, что имел ввиду поэт?
    Life is great and so are you

  8. #8
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    Re: Crazy poetry

    Quote Originally Posted by Красота-то какая
    [погребав это не побрезговав....
    Это причастие от погребать - хоронить...

    Кто действительно понял, что имел ввиду поэт?
    гребать = брезговать (диалектное).

    Так что "не погребав" значит именно "не побрезговав". Что тут ещё понимать-то?

  9. #9
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    погребав это не побрезговав....
    Это причастие от погребать - хоронить...

    Кто действительно понял, что имел ввиду поэт?
    "Не брезгуя" он имел ввиду, там из контекста понятно.
    Любил Есенин такие выкрутасы, видимо
    Please correct my mistakes in English
    I like pigs. Dogs look UP to us. Cats look DOWN on us. Pigs treat us as EQUALS. (Winston Churchill)

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