Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "SUMMIT"
Входимость: 2. Размер: 27кб.
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Входимость: 1. Размер: 49кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 9кб.
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Входимость: 2. Размер: 27кб.
Часть текста: и женских рифм, в равное количество английских четырехстопных ямбов, точно так же рифмованных, чудовищно сложна, и упорство г-на Арндта вызывает у меня, ограничившего свои усилия скромным прозаическим и нерифмованным переводом «Евгения Онегина», восхищение, смешанное со злорадством. Отзывчивый читатель, особенно такой, который не сверяется с оригиналом, может найти в переложении г-на Арндта относительно большие фрагменты, звучащие усыпляюще гладко и с нарочитым чувством; но всякий менее снисходительный и более знающий читатель увидит, сколь, в сущности, ухабисты эти ровные места. Позвольте первым делом предложить вам мой буквальный перевод двух строф (Глава шестая, XXXVI–XXXVII) и те же строфы в переводе г-на Арндта, поместив их рядом ( в эл. версии — ниже и нежирным ). Это одно из тех мест в его труде, которые свободны от вопиющих ошибок и которые пассивный читатель (любимчик преуспевающих преподавателей) мог бы одобрить: 1. My friends, you're sorry for the poet 1. My friends, you will lament the poet 2. in the bloom of glad hopes 2. Who, flowering with a happy gift, 3. not having yet fulfilled them for the world, 3. Must wilt before he could bestow it 4. scarce out of infant clothes, 4. Upon the world, yet scarce adrift 5. withered! Where is the ardent stir 5. From boyhood' shore. Now he will never 6. the noble aspiration, 6. Seethe with that generous endeavor, 7. of young emotions and young thoughts, 7. Those storms of mind and heart again, 8. exalted, tender, bold? 8. Audacious, tender or humane! 9. Where are love's turbulent desires, 9. Stilled now are love's unrully urges, 10. the thirst for knowledges and work, 10. The thirst for knowledge and for deeds, 11. the dread of vice and shame 11. Contempt forvice and what it breeds 12. and you, fond mussing, 12. And stilled you too, ethereal surges 13. you, token of unearthly life, 13. Breath of a transcendental clime, 14....
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Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Часть текста: 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 of this kind will not attract you; all this is lowly nature; 4 there is not much refinement here. Warmed by the god of inspiration, another poet in luxurious language for us has painted the first snow 8 and all the shades of winter's delectations. 27 He'll captivate you, I am sure of it, when he depicts in flaming verses secret promenades in sleigh; 12 but I have no intention of contending either with him at present or...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 60кб.
Часть текста: Манхэттен-Палас и в тот же день отправился в Монтру на противоположный берег озеpa. Там он обосновался, как обычно, в отеле «Les Trois Cygnes» [488] . Маленький, тщедушный, почти мифически древний швейцар умер четыре года назад, во время Ванова приезда, и теперь — вместо сдержанной, полной таинственного смысла, подобной свету лампы сквозь пергамент, улыбки усохшего Жюльена — старого толстого Вана встретила круглая красная физиономия недавнего посыльного, облаченного ныне во фрак. — Люсьен! — сказал д-р Вин, глядя на того поверх очков. — Меня могут посещать — и ваш предшественник был в курсе — разные, довольно необычные визитеры: фокусники, дамы в масках, безумцы — que sais-je [489] ? — надеюсь, все три лебедя будут паиньки и блеснут умением хранить молчание. Вот и поощрительный аванс. — Merci infiniment! [490] — поклонился швейцар, и Ван, как всегда, был бесконечно тронут такой преувеличенной любезностью, дававшей немалую пищу для философствования. Он взял два просторных номера — 509-й и 510-й: с салоном, обставленном в духе Старого Света позолоченной мебелью с зеленой обивкой, прелестной спальней, к которой примыкала квадратная ванная, очевидно, переоборудованная из обычного номера (году в 1875-м, когда отель перестраивался и модернизировался). В возбужденном предчувствии прочел надпись на восьмиугольной картонной табличке, свисавшей на изящном красном шнурке: «Не беспокоить». — «Prière de ne pas déranger» («Просьба не беспокоить!»). Перевесьте табличку на дверь снаружи. Известите Телефонный Коммутатор. — «Avisez en particulier la téléphoniste» («Непременно предупредите телефонистку!») — по-французски: ни вызова, ни менторского тона операторши. Он...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 49кб.
Часть текста: attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twin-bed cabin, a prison cell or paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know nous connmes, to use a Flaubertian intonationthe stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco court, on what the Tour Book of the Automobile Association describes as “shaded” or “spacious” or “landscaped” grounds. The log kind, finished in knotty pine, reminded Lo, by its golden-brown glaze, of friend-chicken bones. We held in contempt the plain whitewashed clapboard Kabins, with their faint sewerish smell or some other gloomy self-conscious stench and nothing to boast of (except “good beds”), and an unsmiling landlady always prepared to have her gift (“…well, I could give you…”) turned down. Nous connmes (this is royal fun) the would-be enticements of their repetitious namesall those Sunset Motels, U-Beam Cottages, Hillcrest Courts, Pine View Courts, Mountain View Courts, Skyline Courts, Park...
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Часть текста: to the dictates of careful scholarship. Certainly the comments (solicited or not) of many persons have guided me in perfecting my book, but only insofar as they served as signposts of exactly the type of tired tripe I wished to avoid. The most common of these was a chilly "You can't do that," as if my book were violating some immemorial cosmic law. For all their carping about institutional constraints on the freedom of their thought and work, my fellow academicians (and even many of you, self-styled "Nabokovians") have revealed themselves to be virulently censorial when confronted by the weird fruit of my research. Few things are more depressing to an intelligent person than the revelation that a whole league of supposedly enlightened literati is in fact a mob of petulant nitwits. Chapter One On Visiting Nabokov's Tomb "Biography is a form of murder." -- J. Tenier The cemetery of the Centre Funéraire St. Martin is bordered on three sides by a tall wrought-iron fence (whose black bars are spaced widely enough to permit the passage of a small child) and on the fourth by a pine and birch forest which extends over the summit of the hill and descends to meet the right bank of Lac Léman six and a half kilometers to the north. The gate stands (usually unlocked) across a pebbled footpath that begins at the stairhead of the uppermost of several contiguous flights (equal in breadth, unequal in height) of cement steps and serpentines across the face of the rise between and around sculptured evergreen shrubs and coppices of scrub pine. Beyond the gate the path forks and each tine wends its way amongst the headstones, the mausoleums, the bouquets of wilted flowers, the miniature red and...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 36кб.
Часть текста: journals and volumes (in my father's library there were more than a thousand of the latter alone, representing a good hundred journals) - all this had to be overcome in order to hunt down the necessary reference, if it existed at all. Nonetheless, even in my exceptionally propitious situation things were not easy: Russia, particularly in the north, dwelt in a mist, while the local lists, scattered through the journals, totally haphazard, scanty, and cruelly inaccurate in nomenclature, only maddened me when at last I ferreted them out. My father was the preeminent entomologist of his time, and very well off to boot, but the ordinary amateur, unable to dispatch his scouts throughout Russia, and denied the opportunity - or not knowing how - to gain access to specialized collections and libraries (and an accidental boon, the hasty inspection of collections at a lepidopterological society or in the cellar of some museum, does not satisfy the true enthusiast, who needs to have the boon always at hand), had no choice but to hope for a miracle. And that miracle dawned in 1912 with the appearance of my father's four-volume work The Butterflies and Moths of the Russian Empire. Although in a hall adjoining the library dark-red cabinets contained my father's supremely rich collections, consisting of specimens complete with thoroughly accurate names, dates, and places of capture, I personally belonged to the category of curieux who, in order to...
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