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Старый 20.11.2014, 14:01   #14 (permalink)
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Могу попробовать перевести что-нибудь из ранних стихов. И какие-нибудь материалы по языкам, созданным Толкином.
Отлично! Вот стихотворения, которые до сих пор не переведены.

1) From the many-willow’d margin of the immemorial


Standing in a vale outcarven in a world-forgotten day,

There is dimly seen uprising through the greenly veiléd


Many-mansion’d, tower-crownéd in its dreamy robe of


All the city by the fording: agéd in the lives of men,

Proudly wrapt in mystic mem’ry overpassing human ken.



Tis the time when May first looks toward June.

With almond-scented hawthorn strewn,

The tremulous day at last has run

Down the gold stairways of the Sun,

Who brimmed the buttercups with light

Like a dear wine she spilled bright;

And gleaming spirits there did dance

And sip those goblets' radiance.

Now wane they all; now comes the moon ;

Like crystal are the dewdrops strewn

Beneath the eve, and twinkling gems

Are hung on the leaves and slender stems.

Now in the grass lies many a pool,

Infinitesimal and cool,

Where tiny faces peer and laugh

At glassy fragments of the stars

About them mirrored, or from jars

Of unimagined frailty quaff

This essence of the plenilune.

Thirsty, perchance, from dancing all the noon.

MEOLCHWITUM sind marmanstane
wagas mine wundrum frætwede;
is hrægl ahongen hnesce on-innan.
seolce gelicost; siththan on-middan
is wylla geworht, waeter glaes-hluttor;
Thær glisnath gold-hladen on gytestreamum
æppla scienost. Infær nænig
nah min burg-fæsten; berstath hwæthre
thriste theofas on thrythærn min.
ond thæt sinc reafiath - saga hwæt ic hatte!

In marble halls as white as milk,
Lined with a skin so soft as silk,
Within a fountain crystal-clear,
A golden apple doth appear.
No doors there are to this stronghold,
Yet thieves break in and steal the gold.

Hæfth Hild Hunecan hwite tunecan,
ond swa read rose hæfth rudige nose;
the leng heo bideth, the læss heo wrideth;
hire tearas hate on tan blate
biernende dreosath ond bearhtme freosath;
hwæt heo sie saga, searothancla maga.

Little Nancy Etticoat
In a white petticoat
And a red nose;
The longer she stands
The shorter she grows

4) FOR W. H. A.

(Woruldbúendra sum bio wóðbora,

giedda giffæst; sum bið gearuwyrdig,

tyhtend getynge torhte mæðleð;

sum bið bóca gleaw, on bréosthorde

wísdóm haldeð, worn fela geman

ealdgesægena þæra þe úðwitan

fróde gefrugnon on fyrndagum;

sum bið wilgesíð, wærfæst hæle,

fréondrædenne fæle gelæsteð.

Sumne wát ic, secg héahmódne,

þe þissa gifena gehwane on geogoðféore

him ealdmetod éstum gesealde.

Wer wíde cuð Wíhstan hatte,

swilce wæs éac háten on eardgearde

Wægmundinga Wígláfes fæder

secga holdestan, and siððan eft

beam Wíghelmes þe æt beaduwe gecrang

æt Mældune be his mandryhtne

on gefrægan þam gefeohte. He nú forð tela

níwan stefne þæs naman brúceð

him to weorðmynde, Wíhstan úre.

Swa sceal he á mid mannum mære wunian,

þær sittað searoþancle sundor tó rúne,

snyttrum styriað sóðgied scopa.

Ic þis gied be þé to grétinge

awræc wintrum fród, Wíhstan léofa,

þeah ic þorfte hraðor þancword sprecan.

Rægnold Hrædmóding.)

Among the people of earth one has poetry in him,

fashions verses with art; one is fluent in words,

has persuasive eloquence sound and lucid;

one is a reader of books and richly stores

his mind with memory of much wisdom

and legends of old that long ago

were learned and related by loremasters;

one is a mate to choose, a man to trust,

Who friendship's call faithfully answers.

Another I know of noble-hearted,

to whom all these gifts in his early days

the favour of Fate freely granted.

Now wide is his renown. Wystan his name is,

as it once was also of the Wægmunding

in his far country, father of Wiglaf

most loyal of lieges, and in later time

of Wighelm's son who in war was slain

at Byrhtnoth's side by the Blackwater.

in the famous defeat. He follows after,

and now anew that name uses

to his own honour. Auden some call him,

and so among men may he be remembered ever,

where as they sit by themselves for solace of heart

the word-lovers, wise and skilful,

revive the vanished voices of makers.

These lines about you I linked together,

though weighted by years, Wystan my friend:

a tardy tribute and token of thanks.

5) Once upon a time

Winter’s Tales for Children, 1965

Once upon a day on the fields of May

there was snow in summer where the blossom lay;

the buttercups tall sent up their light

in a stream of gold, and wide and white

there opened in the green grass-sides

the earth-stars with their steady eyes

watching the Son climb up and down.

Goldberry was there with a wild-rose crown,

Goldberry was there in a lady-smock

blowing away a dandelion clock,

stooping over a lily-pool

and twiddling the water green and cool

to see it sparkle round her hand:

once upon a time in elvish land.

Once upon a night in the cockshut light

the grass was grey but the dew was white;

shadows were dark, and the Sun was gone,

the earth-stars shut, but the high stars shone,

one to another winking their eyes

as they waited for the Moon to rise.

Up he came, and on leaf and grass

his white beams turned to twinkling glass,

and silver dripped from stem and stalk

down to where the lintips walk

through the grass-forests gathering dew.

Tom was there without boot or shoe,

with moonshine wetting his big, brown toes:

once upon a time, the story goes.

Once upon a moon on the brink of June
a-dewing the lintips went too soon.
Tom stopped and listened, and down he knelt:
'Ha! little lads! So it was you I smelt?
What a mousy smell! Well, the dew is sweet,
so drink it up, but mind my feet!'
The lintips laughed and stole away,
but old Tom said: 'I wish they'd stay!
The only things that won't talk to me,
say what they do or what they be.
I wonder what they have got to hide?
Down from the Moon maybe they slide,
or come in star-winks, I don't know:
Once upon a time and long ago.

Вот, это основные стихотворения — я намеренно не даю другие версии стихов из Алой Книги, потому что оценить расхождения в версиях можно, только если переводить эти версии будет один человек. И, конечно, неопубликованных (или частично опубликованных) стихотворений здесь тоже нет.
Спасибо за готовность помочь!

Последний раз редактировалось Экзистенциалист; 23.11.2014 в 20:31.
Экзистенциалист вне форума   Ответить с цитированием