2024.05.01.
Marina Tsvetayeva - Хвала богатым (Khvala bogatym) dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre
Translation
Praise To The Rich
And henceforth, that between me and you
There are miles - having forewarned!
That I count myself with the rabble,
That honest is my place in the world:
Under the wheels of all excess is
Table of uglies, cripples, backs hunched...
And from now, from the roof of belltower
I announce: I love the rich!
For their root, rotten and shaky,
Growing the wound from the crib,
For the absent-minded habit
From the pocket to pocket to grab.
For the quietest request of their lips,
Fulfilled like a scream. That in paradise
They will not be allowed,
That they do not look in the eyes.
For their secrets - always with courier!
Always with messenger - their romance!
For the nights that to them are bound,
(And they violently drink and kiss!)
And for this that in counts, in boredom,
In gilt, in yawns, in cotton, I screech
Me the impudent they won't purchase -
I'm repeating: I love the rich!
And still, whether they're shaved or aren't,
Sated, drunken (I wink - and spend!)
For some - suddenly - being beaten,
For some sometime doglike glance,
Doubtful glance... not a rod
To the zeros? Do not the weights play?
And for this, that among the world's outcasts
No such orphanage is on the way.
There is such foolish tale: through the eye
Of a needle camels to pass...
For their look, that at death does wonder,
Apologizing in disease,
Like in bankruptcy... 'Judged... Be glad - Yes'...
For the quiet, from lips pressed tight, to which
'I counted karats, I was the brother'
I am adding: I love the rich!
Az előadó további dalszöveg fordításait megtalálhatod a következő linken: Marina Tsvetayeva
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