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| Sollos Newbie United States Joined 5990 days ago 15 posts - 19 votes Speaks: English* Studies: Russian, Danish | Message 9 of 9 22 July 2011 at 10:26pm | IP Logged |
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It's been a while, but I've gotten a bit more done. I'm pretty good at slacking off,
and this is pretty slow work - I just hope I can get it done before university starts up again. I have a lot of other things I need to do in between finishing this and starting there. :( This translation is a bit more rough than what I have previously posted. Usually I'll go through my journal segment by segment and recheck my translation by hand - but instead I just took what I had written down and sometimes had to retranslate it from English into more readable English without reexamining it. Other times I just didn't bother to make it all too readable (e.g. "Here once - an affair towards evening" could just have been "Once here (or "once in the past"), - in the evening -" Отец работает – сено косит. Брат работает – сено возит. Да и сам Мальчиш то отцу, то брату помогает или просто с другими мальчишами прыгает да балуется. Father works mowing the hay. Brother works carrying the hay. And Malchish himself evens helps his father or brother, or simply plays and be mischieveous with friends. Гоп!.. Гоп!.. Хорошо! Не визжат пули, не грохают снаряды, не горят деревни. Не надо от пуль на пол ложиться, не надо от снарядов в погреба прятаться, не надо от пожаров в лес бежать. Нечего буржуинов бояться. Некому в пояс кланяться. Живи да работай – хорошая жизнь! Gop!.. Gop!.. Good! No bullets screaming, no shells crashing down, no villages burning. No need for bullets lieing on the ground, no need for cellars to hide in from shells, no need of fire int he forest to flee from. There is no need to fear the bourgeoisie. No one to bow from the waist to. Live and work - the good life! Вот однажды – дело к вечеру – вышел Мальчиш-Кибальчиш на крыльцо. Смотрит он – небо ясное, ветер тёплый, солнце к ночи за Чёрные горы садится. И всё бы хорошо, да что-то нехорошо. Слышится Мальчишу, будто то ли что-то гремит, то ли что-то стучит. Чудится Мальчишу, будто пахнет ветер не цветами с садов, не мёдом с лугов, а пахнет ветер то ли дымом с пожаров, то ли порохом с разрывов. Сказал он отцу, а отец усталый пришёл. Here once - an affair towards evening - Malchish-Kibalchish had come on the porch. He looked - a clear sky, a warm breeze, the sun towards night, sitting over the Black Mountains. And all was good, but something was wrong. Malchish sensed as if something thundered off, or as if something knocked. It seemed by Malchish as if the breee did not smell of flowers from gardens, of honey from meadows, but as if the breeze smelled of smoke from fires, or gunpowder from explosions. He spoke to father, and the tired father came over. – Что ты? – говорит он Мальчишу. – Это дальние грозы гремят за Чёрными горами. Это пастухи дымят кострами за Синей рекой, стада пасут да ужин варят. Иди, Мальчиш, и спи спокойно. "Really?" he said to Malchish. "Those storms rumble far off behind the Black Mountains. Those shephards smoke from the campire beyond the Blue river, the flocks grazing and they making supper. Go, Malchish, and sleep peacefully. Ушёл Мальчиш. Лёг спать. Но не спится ему – ну, никак не засыпается. Malchish went. He lay to sleep. But he slept not – in no way did he fall sleep. Вдруг слышит он на улице топот, у окон – стук. Глянул Мальчиш-Кибальчиш, и видит он: стоит у окна всадник. Конь – вороной, сабля – светлая, папаха – серая, а звезда – красная. Suddenly he heard outside the clattering of hooves, by the window - a knock. Malchish- Kibalchish looked, and he saw: standing by the window a horseman. A horse, black; A saber, bright; A tall fur hat, gray; and a star, red. – Эй, вставайте! – крикнул всадник. – Пришла беда, откуда не ждали. Напал на нас из- за Чёрных гор проклятый буржуин. Опять уже свистят пули, опять уже рвутся снаряды. Бьются с буржуинами наши отряды, и мчатся гонцы звать на помощь далёкую Красную Армию. "Hey, arise!" shouted the rider. "Misfortune has arrived, from where it was not expected. The accursed bourgeoisie attacked us from behind the Black Mountains. Already again are bullets whistling, already again are shells exploding. Our detatchments are struggling with the bourgeoisie, and messengers race to call for aid to the far-off Red Army." Так сказал эти тревожные слова краснозвёздный всадник и умчался прочь. А отец Мальчиша подошёл к стене, снял винтовку, закинул сумку и надел патронташ. Thus having said these alarming words, the rider just off and dashed away. Malchish's father approached the chair, took down his rifle, threw his bag, and equipped his ammunition belt. Edited by Sollos on 22 July 2011 at 10:28pm 1 person has voted this message useful |
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