Метка: перевод на английский

Автор перевода пожелал остаться  неизвестным. Перевод осуществлен при участии Irene Zugasti Hervás

On the main barricade

On the main barricade,
Wearing a white balaclava
He watches at the Death.
And she looks so bright,
Her mouth, stained with blood, like with red lipstick,
Tells him: «Come to me.
Oh, how will i love you,
Kiss you, take care of you,
I will take you out of here,
And you name will be forgotten.
My feather grass bed,
Covered with a fresh dew,
I will put you down into it,
And you will forget about everybody.

But he’s still standing, my soldier,
Although en enemy already has him in his crosshairs.
And he is with death, face to face,
But in his wide pupils is a bright light shining. Читать полностью →

Автор перевода пожелал остаться  неизвестным. Перевод осуществлен при участии Irene Zugasti Hervás

Were are all the heroes now?

Where are all the heroes now?
The heroes are sleeping tight!
In the field, behind the town,
Laying unburied,
Red grass is growing through their chests,
There’s no more shining light in their eyes,
And their lips are bloodless,
No name, no number,
Nobody knows them.
They’ll just go down into the history,
The history of the people,
And the soil will be more fertile,
That soil, that was fed with blood. Читать полностью →

Автор перевода пожелал остаться  неизвестным. Перевод осуществлен при участии Irene Zugasti Hervás

We are separated by the borderline

We are separated by the borderline.
The frontline, the line of life.*
We will dream about each other**,
Only this remains.

I didn’t forget about nothing…
But again — another time,
Mobile connection ends up suddenly,
Remains only connection of our hearts.

No forgive, no revenge,
Only pain, rushing out of my chest.
There is no more ways of connection,
Remains only the Milky Way.

And with help of the shining stars in the sky,
Over exploded bridges,
I am flying, to meet you,
At he height, that you have just cleared.

* here means line on the human’s hand, «line of life» in hand-reading and chiromancy.
** here means to see someone in the dream while sleeping Читать полностью →

Автор перевода пожелал остаться  неизвестным. Перевод осуществлен при участии Irene Zugasti Hervás

These russians

These russian boys never change:
War, revolution, «russian roulette».
To die, before getting old,
As in 19-th, as in 20-th
And 21-st centuries.

These russian girls never change:
Decabrists’s wife*, sister of mercy.
To love, to save lives,
Until heart beats in her chest,
As in 19-th, as in 20-th
And 21-st centuries.

Oh, my russian boy:
War, militia. To die for the Motherland.
Nothing will never change,
Nothing will never change.
Beasts are dancing,
And angels are at the door of eternity.

Oh, I am your russian girl:
Red cross, white bandage, pure alcohol**.
In this meet grinder of dishumanity***,
I’ll give you a shield,
Made of my prays.

Spring is coming. Blossoming apple-trees
Are singing about clean life, without dust of death,
And they seems to be orthodox****, like russians,
That are getting up from their knees after the pray.

* Decabrists — is a name of rebels, who took part in a huge revolt against Nikolay 1-st in December of 1825. A lot of rebels were punished later, many of them were sent to Syberia to work in hard labor-camps. 11 women, the wifes of rebels, went to Syberia with husbands, nevertheless they didn’t have to do it. So in russian language «Decabrist’s wife» is a symbol of the most understanding, loyal and loving woman, who will support ideas of her man and follow him even to the hungry and cold place.

**Pure alcohol — here menas medicinal alcohol, of 96%, which is used to desinfection.
***Dishumanity — here author uses not existing word in russian, which mean that humanity goes back, all the people are doing anti-human things.
****Orthodox church — type of Christianity, which is mostly spread among russian people. Читать полностью →

Автор перевода пожелал остаться  неизвестным. Перевод осуществлен при участии Irene Zugasti Hervás

So the War began

To give names for the
Heroes.

And Motherland…
Had to clam
Because of sorrow.

He fell down, unnamed,
Among the wild grass,
In the field.

— What is your name?
How can we call you,
Warrior?

— A lot of bright names,
Were burned by the fire
Of wars.

A lot of clear names,
But each of them has
A blood drop.

A lot of glorious names
Mothers and fathers gave to us.
And there is mine among,
And that was the last you ever saw of me.

Читать полностью →