Halfdan, Ragnar's Sohn (превод на английски)

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превод на английскианглийски (еквиритмичен)
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Halfdan, son of Ragnar

The rose which stands by the old oak tree,
She dreams of dew and night;
When furious storms rage throughout the world,
The oak then stretches and laughs,
 
And hits the storm's face with a knotted fist,
The storm which wildly bucks -
The first light of day breaks through the branches,
The rose has come to an end.
 
And Halfdan, son of King Ragnar,
He loved both roses and May,
The crown looked heavy, and hard the throne,
The world broke around him in two.
 
The Northwind stormed the Hawa Palace,
King Ragnar called his horse
And he reached with his hands so agèd and broad,
For an equally ancient broad sword.
 
And he left the camp in which he slept,
And looked into the dimly-lit hall:
“I felt as if my sharp-edged blade
Was calling me to war.
 
Last night as I slept, I dreamt a dream
A dream so terrible,
I dreamed that a dead man won the fight,
And I think that dead man was me!
 
This fist has fought five hundred fights,
Not trembling even now,
My hair is grey, and dishevelled, yes,
I shall die as I have lived.
 
To me the dream calls, and I follow with speed,
And travel towards Asaland –
All that’s left for me is my child,
Halfdan with the maiden’s hand.”
 
Young Halfdan was wearing the Helmet of Storms,
King Ragnar spoke not a word,
At last Halfdan rode on his journey
And the cavalry set out too.
 
They rode until they reached Brawallamoor
In foggy Skaneyland-
The Queen was standing at the southern gate,
Her pale hand at her ear.
 
The shivering ground trembled with fear,
The hooves were thundering near,
Deep in the woods the mountain roared
The call of a lost legion.
 
The cuckoo called and he called again,
But suddenly he stopped;
A startled stallion jumped timidly,
At the edge of a far-off wood.
 
And with the evening marched the legion down,
Slowly to the valley,
Much blood was gleaming in the twilight,
Upon the well and spears.
 
And Ragnar, an old man, stood before his wife,
And there sounded a shattering bell:
“I scolded that fool for what he has done,
So weakly and timidly,
 
His hand too light, his heart too heavy,
As he went off scorned by me.
And a spear pierced my child’s heart,
So valuable to me!
 
Last night as I slept, I dreamt a dream
A dream so terrible,
I dreamed that a dead man won the fight,
Oh Halfdan I am he!”
 
Публикувано от Gandalf the BlackGandalf the Black в ср., 20/11/2019 - 18:48
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