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    Dauna Misèria → превод на енглески

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Dauna Misèria

Que sèi ua istoèra
Qui cort los camins,
Non sèi pas quan èra,
Tanpoc lo pais,
Si n'i a qui at saben,
Que m'at diseran,
Dessus lo Gran Liber
Qu'at escriuram.
Monde, çà vietz,
Cà vietz escotar
Lo conte en vertat
De Dauna Misèria,
Que cad lo ser,
Aci qu'èm plan,
Assedetz-ve,
Que la ve vau condar.
 
Qu'èra ua vielhota
Croishida sus pè,
N'avè pas praubota
Qu'un beroi pomèr,
Qui balhava pomas
E pomas tot l'an,
Que las i panavan
De quan en quan.
Un ser d'ivern,
Per un temps d'inhern
Un praube mendiant
Que trucà a la porta,
"Que pods entrar,
Shens paur, shens regret,
Que vam partatjar
E la poma e lo huec."
 
E lo caminaire,
A lendematin,
Digo a Misèria,
Suu pic de partir :
"Que soi lo Sent Pèira,
Tà t'arremerciar,
Tot ço qui demandas,
Qu'at averàs.”
“-Ne voi pas aur,
Ni aur, ni argent,
Que voi simplament
Que no'm panen las pomas.
-Que'n sia atau,
Lo qui pujerà
Suu pomèr shens tu
Ne'n poderà baishar."
 
Au cap de tres dias,
Qu'enteno cridar.
En sortir de casa,
Co qui t'avisà?
Lo molièr panaire,
Pitat suu pomèr :
"Per Diu, desliuratz me,
Soi presoèr."
Quan s'escapà,
Arrauc de tutar,
Que s'èra secat
Au mens ua setmana!
"Te'n voi pas nat,
Hè la comicion,
Qui vienga lirar
Autorn de la maison."
 
Lo temps que passava,
Lo temps que passà,
Ua nueit shens lua,
La Mort qu'arribà,
Vestida de negre,
La dalha a la man :
"Misèria, Misèria,
Que nse'n cau anar.
-Si ei la fin,
Que't voi plan seguir,
Mès que minjeri
Ua darrèra poma,
Vos ajuda'm,
Vèn la me cercar?"
La mort que pujà
Non podo mei baishar.
 
Arrens ne's moriva
Hens lo monde sancèr,
Los vielhs que's trufavan
Deus lors eretèrs,
Marchans de quimèra,
Marchans de canon,
Que hesèn failhita
Shens remicion.
Tots a d'arron,
Maire e president,
E papa tanben,
Tots en ço de Misèria,
Miaça e pregar,
E suplicacion,
Misèria en cedar
Que pausà condicion.
 
La Mort qu'èra harta,
Entà s'escapar,
Qu'avo de prometer
De non pas tornar.
Tant l'avè portada,
Lo pomèr que's mori,
Misèria de hàmi,
Qu'avo de partir,
Misèria e Mort,
Despuish aqueth temps,
Que corren tostemps
Per los camins deu monde,
E tric e tric,
Lo conde ei fenit,
Viratz, viratz,
Lo conde ei acabat.
 
Превод

Lady Misery

I know a story
That runs the paths,
I don’t know when it took place
Nor in which country,
If there is someone that knows
They’ll tell me,
In the Great Book
We’ll write it.
Everyone, come on,
Come and hear
The true story
Of Lady Misery,
The night is falling,
We’re all comfortable,
Take a seat,
I’m going to tell it to you.
 
There was an old lady,
Trampled under foot1
She had nothing more, poor thing,
But a beautiful apple tree,
That gave apples
And apples all year long,
They stole them from her,
From time to time.
One winter evening,
During an evening from hell
A poor mendicant
Knocked at the door,
“You may enter,
Without fear, without regret,
We’ll share
The apple and the fire.”
 
And the wanderer,
In the morning,
Told Misery,
Just as he was about to leave:
“I am Saint Peter,
In order to thank you,
Everything that you ask,
You will have.”
“I don’t want gold,
Neither gold nor silver,
I only want
That they stop stealing my apples.”
“So may it be,
The one that climbs
Up your apple tree, without your permission
Will not be able to come down.”
 
At the end of three days,
She heard a cry.
In leaving the house,
What did she see?
The thieving miller,
Drunk, up the apple tree:
“By God, free me,
I’m emprisoned!”
When he escaped
His voice was hoarse from squawking,
He was dry from drink,
At least for a week!
“I don’t want anyone,
Making a commotion,
Who comes to prowl
Around the house.”
 
The times passed by,
The time passed,
One moonless night,
Death arrived,
Dressed in black,
With the scythe in its hand:
“Misery, Misery,
It is time to go.”
“If it’s the end,
Then I’ll gladly follow you,
But I would eat
One last apple,
Will you help
Bring it to me?”
Death climbed
And couldn’t come back down.
 
No one died
In the entire world,
The old ones mocked
Their inheritors,
Sellers of pipe dreams,
Sellers of canons,
They went bankrupt
Without remission.
Every one of them,
Mayor and president,
And even the Pope,
All of them went to Misery,
Threats and prayers,
And supplications,
Misery finally gave in,
She offered her condition.
 
Death was exhausted,
In order to escape,
It had to promise,
to not come back.
Such weight had it supported,
That the apple tree died,
Misery, from hunger,
Had to leave.
Misery and Death,
From this time ever since,
Travel together forever
The paths of the world.
And tric and tric,
The story is finished,
Spin, spin,
The story is ended.
 
  • 1. Figuratively
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