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Mar. 26th, 2021 02:02 pmТут Бегемот нашёл в сети много Окуджавы в переводе и в исполнении Дэниэла Кана.
Мы раньше уже что-то слышали, но не столько. И меня в этот раз поразило, насколько у Кана получился Окуджава вне конкретного времени и привязки к России.
В голову мне не могло бы прийти, что по-английски Окуджава может звучать не переводом, в той или иной степени хорошим, и конечно же соотнесённым с Россией 60-х-70-х, а совершенно естественно англоязычным и вне русской привязки.
Мне кажется, что это второй такой случай. Первый – фильм Луи Малля «Ваня на 42-ой стрит» – самый пронзительный виденный мной дядя Ваня – и да, без привязки к времени и стране.
***
When darkness descends and I can't beat my blues
I wander the streets after midnight
Til the last trolley car comes around into view
A blue light in the black night
The trolley at night, how she circles the town
With all of the streets rolling past her
She rescues us all, who are treading the ground
From disaster to disaster
Blue trolley at night, won't you open your door
For every floundering failure
Stranded tonight on this shivering shore
Your sailors, my saviors
And again I can leave all my troubles behind
And warm up my soul with the kindness
That shoulder to shoulder we passengers find
In silence, in silence
And the trolley sails on in its lumbering flow
The slumbering city beside it
And the pain that had pecked at my brain like a crow
Subsided, subsided
***
I wore my ragged coat so bare
The tattered sleeves were thin as paper
And so I took it to a tailor
And asked him kindly for repair
I made a joke, and said
"This coat requires total restoration
To bring me glory and salvation
I need your skillful hands to sew!"
But then my playful little words
Took on a meaning unintended
As he methodically mended
He seemed disturbed
Peculiar bird...
And I observed the silent way he worked
To rectify the garment
As though my soul depended on it
This ragged coat, for all my days
He thought I'd slip into the sleeve
And I'd believe again so clearly
That somehow you could love sincerely
But that's absurd
Peculiar bird...
Думаю, Окуджава был бы доволен!
Мы раньше уже что-то слышали, но не столько. И меня в этот раз поразило, насколько у Кана получился Окуджава вне конкретного времени и привязки к России.
В голову мне не могло бы прийти, что по-английски Окуджава может звучать не переводом, в той или иной степени хорошим, и конечно же соотнесённым с Россией 60-х-70-х, а совершенно естественно англоязычным и вне русской привязки.
Мне кажется, что это второй такой случай. Первый – фильм Луи Малля «Ваня на 42-ой стрит» – самый пронзительный виденный мной дядя Ваня – и да, без привязки к времени и стране.
***
When darkness descends and I can't beat my blues
I wander the streets after midnight
Til the last trolley car comes around into view
A blue light in the black night
The trolley at night, how she circles the town
With all of the streets rolling past her
She rescues us all, who are treading the ground
From disaster to disaster
Blue trolley at night, won't you open your door
For every floundering failure
Stranded tonight on this shivering shore
Your sailors, my saviors
And again I can leave all my troubles behind
And warm up my soul with the kindness
That shoulder to shoulder we passengers find
In silence, in silence
And the trolley sails on in its lumbering flow
The slumbering city beside it
And the pain that had pecked at my brain like a crow
Subsided, subsided
***
I wore my ragged coat so bare
The tattered sleeves were thin as paper
And so I took it to a tailor
And asked him kindly for repair
I made a joke, and said
"This coat requires total restoration
To bring me glory and salvation
I need your skillful hands to sew!"
But then my playful little words
Took on a meaning unintended
As he methodically mended
He seemed disturbed
Peculiar bird...
And I observed the silent way he worked
To rectify the garment
As though my soul depended on it
This ragged coat, for all my days
He thought I'd slip into the sleeve
And I'd believe again so clearly
That somehow you could love sincerely
But that's absurd
Peculiar bird...
Думаю, Окуджава был бы доволен!
