Thread: Александр Сергеевич Пушкин

Пушкин А.С. - Анчар (Стих) - YouTube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoeDHl8UwQI Uploaded by moitubik on Apr 25, 2011


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRj1PAg5Pfg Published on Jun 18, 2012 by schetin


Перевод schetin


Читает Константин Райкин

(ИЗ ПИНДЕМОНТИ)

Не дорого ценю я громкие права,
От коих не одна кружится голова.
Я не ропщу о том, что отказали боги
Мне в сладкой участи оспоривать налоги
Или мешать царям друг с другом воевать;
И мало горя мне, свободно ли печать
Морочит олухов, иль чуткая цензура
В журнальных замыслах стесняет балагура.
Все это, видите ль, слова, слова, слова
Иные, лучшие, мне дороги права;
Иная, лучшая, потребна мне свобода:
Зависеть от царя, зависеть от народа —
Не все ли нам равно? Бог с ними.
Никому
Отчета не давать, себе лишь самому
Служить и угождать; для власти, для ливреи
Не гнуть ни совести, ни помыслов, ни шеи;
По прихоти своей скитаться здесь и там,
Дивясь божественным природы красотам,
И пред созданьями искусств и вдохновенья
Трепеща радостно в восторгах умиленья.
Вот счастье! вот права...
________________________________




I don't rate very highly any lofty rights,
The ones that oftentimes besot so many minds.
I am not sorry that the gods should have divested
Me of sweet destiny to question dues and taxes
Or hinder tsars that be in their intent to fight;
Nor am I bothered if the press has any right
To fool a blockhead, or a picky censor ever
Restricts a windbag in a magazine endeavor.
All this, in fact, is none but words, words, words.

I value other, better privileges' worth;
I am attracted to another, better freedom:
Depending on the tsar, depending on the people --
For all we care! Let them be! To never give
Account to anybody, to attend and meet
My personal demands; for power, for donations,
To not bend neck, ambitious goals and station.
To ramble here and there, pursuing my own craze,
Admiring the nature's otherworldly grace
And thrilling joyfully, blown over by elation,
At the creations of the arts and inspiration.
That's bliss! as for the rights...

Слушать произведения Пушкина: http://prochtu.ru/info.php?avtor=84

2 часа 20 минут


Published on Mar 8, 2012 by jacquesurlus·

Евгений Онегин

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

The libretto was written by Konstantin Shilovsky and the composer and his brother Modest, and is based on the novel in verse by Alexander Pushkin

Yevgeniy Belov..........Onegin
Sergey Lemeshev.........Lensky
Galina Vishnevskaya.....Tatyana
Larissa Avdeyeva........Olga
Valentina Petrova.......Larina
Yevgeniya Verbitskaya...Filippyevna
Ivan Petrov.............Gremin
Andrey Sokolov..........Triquet
Igor Mikhaylov..........Zaretsky

Bolshoy Theatre Orchestra and Chorus
Boris Khaikin, conductor
Recording, 1955

Вот такое недавно нашел у друзей в книжном магазине.
http://lib.rus.ec/b/211576/read#t1

К морю

http://poemsintranslation.blogspot.c...m-russian.html


https://dl.dropbox.com/u/14339528/Kmoryu.mp3



To The Sea

By Alexander Pushkin

Translated by A.Z. Foreman


Unfettered element! Farewell
Before me now one final time
You roll again that skyblue swell,
And sparkle with a pride sublime.

Like an old friend's regretful sigh,
Like calls of fare-you-well through tears,
Your summoning sound, your sounding cry,
One final time now fills my ears.

Oh yes, my heart's desired reach!
How often I in twilight went
Quiet and dark along your beach,
Wracked by a sacred deep intent¹

Dear were the answers you would send,
Dim primal sounds, the chasm's call
The silences of evenfall
And those impulsive flights of wind.

The humble sail of fishers' slips,
With the protection of your mood,
Bravely amid your watertips,
But you, a Titan unsubdued,
Roll rough and drown a herd of ships.

'Twas not my luck to leave the night
Fallen on this dry stirless shore,
To greet you, raptured into light,
And make my grand poetic flight
Across your crests forevermore

You called... I was enthralled aground.
Vainly my heart in shackles strained.
By spells of potent passion bound
Beside the beaches I remained.


What's to regret? Toward what far shoal
Could I my madcap voyage chart?
In all your open wilds, one goal
Could still have power to strike my heart,

One cliff...that sepulcher of glory
There a chill slumber in the west
Whelmed memories of a mighty story...
There was Napoleon felled to rest.

There rested he in tribulations.
And, after him as thunder, rolls
Yet one more genius of the nations,
One more commander of our souls²

Leaving the world his wreath forever
He vanished, grieved by liberty.
Seethe! Sound! Blow wild with angry weather.
He was your one true bard, O Sea.

In him your spirit wrought its mark,
In your own image was he framed
Like you was potent, deep and dark.
Like you, an element untamed.

Poems Found in Translation: Pushkin: "To...." (From Russian)


To....
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Russian

I still recall a wonder vision.
The day when you before me shone,
A fleeting genius apparition,
A perfect beauty paragon.

Through hopeless sorrows that oppressed me,
Through life's alarms and senseless schemes
That caring voice and soul caressed me,
And that endearing face filled dreams.

Years passed. The stormwinds whirled against me,
Scattering former dreams of grace,
And I forgot your voice caressed me,
Forgot your beatific face.

In wastes, away...in isolation
My days dragged on from year to year:
No deity, no inspiration
No life, no love, and not one tear.

The soul was wakened by a vision
As finally again you shone,
A fleeting genius apparition,
A perfect beauty paragon.

The heart rebounds in exaltation,
As resurrected from dead years
Rise deity and inspiration
And love and life and all the tears.

I Loved You
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear merecite the Russian

I loved you, once: and love, it could well be,
Within my soul lies unextinguished yet.
But let the thought no longer trouble you.
I would not bring you anguish or regret.
I loved you with no words and to no end
Now timorous, now jealous, pain by pain.
I loved you though so tenderly, sincerely
I hope to God you're loved like that again.

Night
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

My voice for you is languid, low and light,
Troubling the silence of the dark, late night.
A sullen candle at the pillow's verge
Glows; and my verses murmurously merge
And gush; the brooks of love flow full of you
And in the darkness that your eyes shine through
To smile at me, there are the sounds I hear:
I'm yours....I'm yours....my dear...my only dear.

Pushkin: DueTime (From Russian)
Due Time
By A.S. Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Click to hear me recite the original Russian

Bound for your distant homeland's shore
You left behind a foreign clime
How long I wept before your eyes,
That unforgotten, grievous time.
Hands growing colder as they tried
To hold you back with me a spell,
My cry prayed you and heaven not
To break the anguish of farewell.

But from that moment's bitter kiss
You tore away at last your face.
Out of a realm of sullen exile
You called me into different space.
You said "When once again we meet
Beneath a sky forever blue,
By shade of olive trees, the kiss
Of love shall reunite us two."

But there, alas, where arching heavens
Shine in a sparkle blue and deep
Where olives shaded quiet waters
You fell into the final sleep.
Now all your beauty, your ordeals
Are gone into the grave with you-
And gone with them reunion's kiss
But I still wait. It still is due.

TheOriginal:

"Для берегов отчизны дальной.."
А.С. Пушкин

Для берегов отчизны дальной
Ты покидала край чужой;
В час незабвенный, в час печальный
Я долго плакал пред тобой.
Мои хладеющие руки
Тебя старались удержать;
Томленье страшное разлуки
Мой стон молил не прерывать.

Но ты от горького лобзанья
Свои уста оторвала;
Из края мрачного изгнанья
Ты в край иной меня звала.
Ты говорила: «В день свиданья
Под небом вечно голубым,
В тени олив, любви лобзанья
Мы вновь, мой друг, соединим».

Но там, увы, где неба своды
Сияют в блеске голубом,
Где тень олив легла на воды,
Заснула ты последним сном.
Твоя краса, твои страданья
Исчезли в урне гробовой —
А с ними поцелуй свиданья…
Но жду его; он за тобой…

Pushkin: TheUpas Tree (From Russian)

http://poemsintranslation.blogspot.c...m-russian.html

TheUpas Tree¹
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Click here to hear me recite the poem in Russian

On scorched and conflagrated sands,
In sapped and grudging desolation,
The solitary Upas stands
Grim sentinel of all creation.

This thing was spawned one day of rage
From nature of the thirsting plain
That slaked the death-green foliage
And deep-set roots with sap of bane.

The venom oozes down the bark
Turned liquid in the midday blaze,
Congealing at the fall of dark
To clots of cruel, translucent glaze.

No tigers come, no birds alight.
None but the wind's black breath will dare
Circle around that tree of blight
And leave with newly deadly air.

And, should an errant cloud imbue
With rain the rank leaves' laden glands,
The branches drip a toxic dew
Onto incendiary sands.

But once a man dispatched a man
With one dread glance to that dead waste
And he obeyed. Away he ran
And brought the poison back with haste:

Its lethal sap, its waxen bough
And desiccated leaves. The sweat
Across his sallow, stricken brow
Ran in a chilling rivulet.

He brought it, stumbled and sprawled, prone
Beneath the tent for his reward:
A poor slave's death before the throne
Of his invulnerable lord.

And in that poison brew the Tsar
Dipped arrows under his command,
And loosed perdition near and far
On men of every neighboring land.

Notes:

1 The Upas Tree (Antiaris Toxicaria) produces a latex sap which, upon entering the human blood stream, causes cardiac arrest almost immediately. This sap has historically been used in central and east Asia in blow darts and arrows.


Many thanks to: Dmitri Simenov for a Russian lexical item; AdamElgar and Andrew Frisardi for advice on the English text; Lina Steiner for theencouragement after I foisted this translation on her.
TheOriginal:

Анчар
Древо Яда
Александр Пушкин

В пустыне чахлой и скупой,
На почве, зноем раскаленной,
Анчар, как грозный часовой,
Стоит - один во всей вселенной.

Природа жаждущих степей
Его в день гнева породила,
И зелень мертвую ветвей
И корни ядом напоила.

Яд каплет сквозь его кору,
К полудню растопясь от зною,
И застывает ввечеру
Густой прозрачною смолою.

К нему и птица не летит,
И тигр нейдет: лишь вихорь черный
На древо смерти набежит -
И мчится прочь, уже тлетворный.

И если туча оросит,
Блуждая, лист его дремучий,
С его ветвей, уж ядовит,
Стекает дождь в песок горючий.

Но человека человек
Послал к анчару властным взглядом,
И тот послушно в путь потек
И к утру возвратился с ядом.

Принес он смертную смолу
Да ветвь с увядшими листами,
И пот по бледному челу
Струился хладными ручьями;

Принес - и ослабел и лег
Под сводом шалаша па лыки,
И умер бедный раб у ног
Непобедимого владыки.

А царь тем ядом напитал
Свои послушливые стрелы
И с ними гибель разослал
К соседям в чуждые пределы.


title

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zR23o0mY0w

Здесь можно послушать романс на стихи А. С. Пушкина "Что в имени тебе моем?" музыка и исполнение Валерия Пака. Из всех существующих романсов, взявших это стихотворение за основу, романс Пака, по-моему, самый лучший.

Моноспектакль "Полтава" - Сергей Шакуров



А.С. Пушкин. Полтава

https://youtu.be/KTGvXwtHDHU

Сегодня день рождения А.С.Пушкина.

https://youtu.be/CyvkrDlmFw8