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Thread: Александр Сергеевич Пушкин

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    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...
    Last edited by Lampada; June 19th, 2012 at 03:17 AM.

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

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    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

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    Вот такое недавно нашел у друзей в книжном магазине.
    http://lib.rus.ec/b/211576/read#t1
    Yulia65 likes this.

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    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.
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    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.
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    "...Важно, чтобы форум оставался местом, объединяющим людей, для которых интересны русский язык и культура. ..." - MasterАdmin (из переписки)



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    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.

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    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.
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    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…
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    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.
    The
    Original:

    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

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    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.
    Lampada likes this.

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    Моноспектакль "Полтава" - Сергей Шакуров



    А.С. Пушкин. Полтава

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