Домой (Englisch Übersetzung)



Нелепая гармония пустого шара
Заполнит промежутки мёртвой водой
Через заснеженные комнаты и дым
Протянет палец и покажет нам на двери
Отсюда - домой...
От этих каменных систем в распухших головах
Теоретических пророков напечатанных богов
От всей сверкающей звенящей и пылающей хуйни
По этажам, по коридорам лишь бумажный ветер
Забивает по карманам смятые рубли
Сметает в кучи пыль и тряпки, смех и слёзы, горе - радость
Плюс на минус даёт освобождение
От голода и ветра, от холодного ума
От электрического смеха, безусловного рефлекса
От всех рождений смертей перерождений
Смертей перерождений
За какие такие грехи задаваться вопросом зачем
И зачем, и зачем, и зачем, и зачем, и зачем
Von NimbieNimbie am Di, 15/04/2014 - 21:43 eingetragen
Zuletzt von ltlt am Mo, 08/05/2017 - 13:54 bearbeitet
Align paragraphs
Englisch Übersetzung (äqui-rhythmisch, singbar)

Back Home!

Versionen : #1#2#3
The ragtime harmony shown by an empty sphere
Will fill the spaces with dead water again
Across the snowbound rooms and in the smoke
It’ll thrust its finger and will point us to the exit
From here – back home...
From these rupestrian frameworks in overswollen heads
Away from theoretic prophets and from promulgated gods
Away from all the most ablaze, ajingle and aflame bullshit
Back home!
Only a paper wind in empty corridors and storeys
With the balled up roubles clutters all the pockets up
Sweeps up in heaps the fug, the rags, the chuckle, the tears, the grief, the gladness
“Plus” on “minus” will give the liberation
Back home!
From hunger and from wind, and from the calculating mind
From the electric laughter, and from the congenital reflex, and
Away from births and from deaths and resurrections
From deaths and resurrections
Back home!
“Of what sins are the wages?" to ask, and to pose a question: what for?
And what for and what for and what for and what for
Back home!
Von BratBrat am Mo, 08/05/2017 - 15:05 eingetragen
Zuletzt von BratBrat am Do, 28/02/2019 - 15:06 bearbeitet
Kommentare des Autors:

The translation is singable.

BratBrat    Sa, 03/06/2017 - 10:49

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
(C) W. Shakespeare, Sonnet 66
Time passes, shit happens...