Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "POET"
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Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах
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Часть текста: том числе о встречах с Борисом Пастернаком» 2 . Справка эта нуждается в существенных дополнениях. В частности, что такое те «мерзостны<е> “преображен- ии<я>”», о которых с таким гневом пишет своему адресату Набоков? Очевидно, что речь здесь идет об одной из тогдашних новинок - антологии “Poets on Street Corners” («Поэты на уличных углах») под редакцией О. В. Андреевой-Карлайль. В антологию эту вошли переводы из пятнадцати русских поэтов: А. Блока, Анны Ахматовой, Б. Пастернака, О. Мандельштама, М. Цветаевой, В. Маяковского, С. Есенина, Н. Заболоцкого, Б. Поплавского, Е. Евтушенко, А. Вознесенского, И. Холина, Г. Сапгира, Б. Ахмадулиной и И. Бродского 3 . Переводы из Мандельштама, выполненные Робертом Лоуэллом, лауреатом Bollingen Poetry Translation Prize 1962 г., помещены в антологии с указанием на их подчеркнуто вольный характер. Уже этого одного обстоятельства было достаточно для того, чтоб Набоков счел Лоуэлла оскорбителем тени покойного Мандельштама - поэта, который Набокову был особенно дорог в те годы 4 . В 1964 г. в предисловии к своему комментированному переводу пушкинского «Онегина» Набоков писал, что попытки поэтического перевода подпадают под три категории: 1) парафрастический перевод (создание вольного переложения исходного текста с купюрами и конъектурами), 2) лексический перевод (передача основного смысла слов и их порядка) и - наконец - 3) буквальный перевод (передача точного контекстуального значения подлинника столь...
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Часть текста: had vanished, Onegin, by ennui pursued again, by Olga's side sank into meditation, 4 pleased with his vengeance. After him Ólinka yawned too, sought Lenski with her eyes, and the endless cotillion 8 irked her like an oppressive dream. But it has ended. They go in to supper. The beds are made. Guests are assigned night lodgings — from the entrance hall 12 even to the maids' quarters. Restful sleep by all is needed. My Onegin alone has driven home to sleep. II All has grown quiet. In the drawing room the heavy Pustyakov snores with his heavy better half. 4 Gvozdin, Buyanov, Petushkov, and Flyanov (who is not quite well) have bedded in the dining room on chairs, with, on the floor, Monsieur Triquet 8 in underwaistcoat and old nightcap. All the young ladies, in Tatiana's and Olga's rooms, are wrapped in sleep. Alone, sadly by Dian's beam 12 illumined at the window, poor Tatiana is not asleep and gazes out on the dark field. III With his unlooked-for apparition, the momentary softness of his eyes, and odd conduct with Olga, 4 to the depth of her soul she's penetrated. She is quite unable to understand him. Jealous anguish perturbs her, 8 as if a cold hand...
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Часть текста: drawing room, portraits of grandsires on the walls, 8 and stoves with varicolored tiles. All this today is obsolete, I really don't know why; and anyway it was a matter 12 of very little moment to my friend, since he yawned equally amidst modish and olden halls. III He settled in that chamber where the rural old-timer had for forty years or so squabbled with his housekeeper, 4 looked through the window, and squashed flies. It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards, a table, a divan of down, and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin 8 opened the cupboards; found in one a notebook of expenses and in the other a whole array of fruit liqueurs, pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight: having a lot to do, the old man never looked into any other books. IV Alone midst his possessions, merely to while away the time, at first conceived the plan our Eugene 4 of instituting a new system. In his backwoods a solitary sage, the ancient corvée 's yoke by the light quitrent he replaced; 8 the muzhik blessed fate, while in his corner went into a huff, therein perceiving dreadful harm, his thrifty neighbor. 12 Another slyly smiled, and all concluded with one voice that he was a most dangerous eccentric. V At first they all would call on him, but...
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Часть текста: Pushkin Chapter five CHAPTER FIVE Never know these frightful dreams, You, O my Svetlana! Zhukovski I That year autumnal weather was a long time abroad; nature kept waiting and waiting for winter. 4 Snow only fell in January, on the night of the second. Waking early, Tatiana from the window saw at morn the whitened yard, 8 flower beds, roofs, and fence; delicate patterns on the panes; the trees in winter silver, gay magpies outside, 12 and the hills softly overspread with winter's brilliant carpeting. All's bright, all's white around. II Winter! The peasant, celebrating, in a flat sledge inaugurates the track; his naggy, having sensed the snow, 4 shambles at something like a trot. Plowing up fluffy furrows, a bold kibitka flies: the driver sits upon his box 8 in sheepskin coat, red-sashed. Here runs about a household lad, upon a hand sled having seated “blackie,” having transformed himself into the steed; 12 the scamp already has frozen a finger. He finds it both painful and funny — while his mother, from the window, threatens him... III But, maybe, pictures ...
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Часть текста: every word of which I had written in longhand before having them typed for submission to Toffler when he came to Montreux in mid-March, 1963. The present text takes into account the order of my interviewer's questions as well as the fact that a couple of consecutive pages of my typescript were apparently lost in transit. Egreto perambis doribus! With the American publication of Lolita in 1958, your fame and fortune mushroomed almost overnight from high repute among the literary cognoscenti-- which you bad enjoyed for more than 30 years-- to both acclaim and abuse as the world-renowned author of a sensational bestseller. In the aftermath of this cause celebre, do you ever regret having written Lolita? On the contrary, I shudder retrospectively when I recall that there was a moment, in 1950, and again in 1951, when I was on the point of burning Humbert Humbert's little black diary. No, I shall never regret Lolita. She was like the composition of a beautiful puzzle-- its composition and its solution at the same time, since one is a mirror view of the other, depending on the way you look. Of course she completely eclipsed my other works-- at least those I wrote in English: The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, Bend Sinister, my short stories, my book of recollections; but I cannot grudge her this. There is a queer, tender charm about that mythical nymphet. Though many readers and reviewers would...
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Часть текста: off the cuff (or "Off the Nabocuff," as he said) no tape recorder was used. Mr. Nabokov ei! ther wrote out his answers to the questions or dictated them to the interviewer; in some instances, notes from the conversation were later recast as formal questions-and-answers. The interviewer was Nabokov's student at Cornell University in 1954, and the references are to Literature 311-312 (MWF, 12), a course on the Masterpieces of European Fiction (Jane Austen, Gogol, Dickens, Flaubert, Tolstoy, Stevenson, Kafka, Joyce, and Proust). Its enrollment had reached four hundred by the time of Nabokov's resignation in 1959. The footnotes to the interview, except where indicated, are provided by the interviewer, Alfred Appel, Jr. For years bibliographers and literary journalists didn't know whether to group you under "Russian" or "American. "Now that you're living in Switzerland there seems to be complete agreement that you're American. Do you find this kind of distinction at all important regarding your identity as a writer? I have always maintained, even as a schoolboy in Russia, that the nationality of a worthwhile writer is of secondary importance. The more distinctive an insect's aspect, the less apt the taxonomist is to glance first of all at the locality label under the pinned specimen in order to decide which of several vaguely described races it should be assigned to. The writer's art is his real passport. His identity should be immediately recognized by a special pattern or unique coloration. His habitat may confirm the correctness of the determination but should not lead to it. Locality labels are known to have been faked by unscrupulous insect dealers. Apart from these considerations I think of myself today as an American writer who has once been a Russian o! ne. The Russian writers you have translated and written about all precede the so-called "age of realism, " which is more celebrated by English and...
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Часть текста: Переводя стихи, приходится, по словам Набокова, “выбирать между рифмой и разумом”. И все же стихи переводят и переводить будут. Почему, зачем? Недоуменье взяло. Ну, прежде всего, затем что хочется. И не только переводчику, читателю тоже. Обидно же раз за разом слышать: “Ах, Джон Донн! Ах, Басё!” — и в глаза ни того ни другого ни разу не увидать. Можно, конечно, засесть за изучение английского (японского, польского, немецкого) языка. Да все как-то недосуг. Со своим бы управиться. Вот и читаешь переводы. Это что касается потребностей читателя. А что требуется от переводчика? Задача его, как я себе представляю, в том, чтобы по возможности точнее, “ближе к тексту”, передать звучание и мысль, “рифму и разум” (ну и ритмическое построение тоже, но это не самое сложное). Передать и то и другое в безупречной полноте по понятным причинам невозможно. Случаются, конечно, удачи, но они редки. Один из лучших известных мне примеров дан самим Набоковым в последних строках его английской поэмы “An Evening of Russian Poetry” (“Вечер русской поэзии”): Bessonnitza, tvoy vzor oonil i strashen; lubov moya, otstoopnika prostee. (Insomnia, your stare is dull and ashen, my love, forgive me this apostasy.) Впрочем, это, боюсь, нельзя по чистой совести причислить к переводам как таковым — тут все, скорее, было продумано заранее. В итоге переводчику приходится сочинять нечто компромиссное. Совсем уходить куда-то далеко...
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Часть текста: to be a nymphet, if she ever had been one. Eva Rosen, a displaced little person from France, was on the other hand a good example of a not strikingly beautiful child revealing to the perspicacious amateur some of the basic elements of nymphet charm, such as a perfect pubescent figure and lingering eyes and high cheekbones. Her glossy copper hair had Lolita’s silkiness, and the features of her delicate milky-white face with pink lips and silverfish eyelashes were less foxy than those of her likesthe great clan of intra-racial redheads; nor did she sport their green uniform but wore, as I remember her, a lot of black or cherry darka very smart black pullover, for instance, and high-heeled black shoes, and garnet-red fingernail polish. I spoke French to her (much to Lo’s disgust). The child’s tonalities were still admirably pure, but for school words and play words she resorted to current American and then a slight Brooklyn accent would crop up in her speech, which was amusing in a little Parisian who went to a select New England school with phoney British aspirations. Unfortunately, despite “that French kid’s uncle” being “a millionaire,” Lo dropped Eva for some reason before I had had time to enjoy in my modest way her fragrant presence in the Humbert open house. The reader knows what importance I attached to having a bevy of page girls, consolation prize nymphets, around my Lolita. For a while, I endeavored to interest my senses in Mona Dahl who was a good deal around, especially during the spring term when Lo and she got so enthusiastic about dramatics. I have often wondered what secrets outrageously treacherous Dolores Haze had imparted to Mona while...
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Часть текста: swans, near waters shining in the stillness, 8 the Muse began to visit me. My student cell was all at once radiant with light: in it the Muse opened a banquet of young fancies, 12 sang childish gaieties, and glory of our ancientry, and the heart's tremulous dreams. II And with a smile the world received her; the first success provided us with wings; the aged Derzhavin noticed us — and blessed us 4 as he descended to the grave. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III And I, setting myself for law only the arbitrary will of passions, sharing emotions with the crowd, 4 I led my frisky Muse into the hubbub of feasts and turbulent discussions — the terror of midnight patrols; and to them, in mad feasts, 8 she brought her gifts, and like a little bacchante frisked, over the bowl sang for the guests;...
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Часть текста: 1965, Robert Hughes visited me here to make a filmed interview for the Television 13 Educational Program in New York. At our initial meetings I read from prepared cards, and this part of the interview is given below. The rest, represented by some fifty pages typed from the tape, is too colloquial and rambling to suit the scheme of the present book. As with Gogol and even James Agйe, there is occasionally confusion about the pronunciation of your last name. How does one pronounce it correctly? It is indeed a tricky name. It is often misspelt, because the eye tends to regard the "a" of the first syllable as a misprint and then tries to restore the symmetrical sequence by triplicating the "o"-- filling up the row of circles, so to speak, as in a game of crosses and naughts. No-bow-cough. How ugly, how wrong. Every author whose name is fairly often mentioned in periodicals develops a bird-watcher's or caterpillar-picker's knack when scanning an article. But in my case I always get caught by the word "nobody" when capitalized at the beginning of a sentence. As to pronunciation, Frenchmen of course say Nabokoff, with the accent on the last syllable. Englishmen say Nabokov, accent on the first, and Italians say Nabokov, accent in the middle, as Russians also do. Na- bo -kov. A heavy open "o" as in "Knickerbocker". My New England ear is not offended by the long elegant middle "o" of Nabokov as delivered in American academies. The awful "Na-bah-kov" is a despicable gutterism. Well, you can make your choice now. Incidentallv, the first name is pronounced Vladeemer-- rhyming with "redeemer"-- not Vladimir rhyming with Faddimere (a place in England, I think). How about the name of your extraordinary creature. Professor P-N-I-N? The "p" is sounded, that's all. But since...