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Does anyone understand these lines??? ;)

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I was wondering if anyone understands any of this? If so then please let me know...



Когда вода всемирного потопа

Вернулась вновь в границы берегов,

Из пены уходящего потока

На берег тихо выбралась любовь

И растворилась в воздухе до срока,

А срока было сорок сороков.

И чудаки - еще такие есть -

Вдыхают полной грудью эту смесь.

И ни наград не ждут, ни наказанья,

И, думая, что дышат просто так,

Они внезапно попадают в такт

Такого же неровного дыханья...

Только чувству, словно кораблю,

Долго оставаться на плаву,

Прежде чем узнать, что "я люблю",-

То же, что дышу, или живу!

И вдоволь будет странствий и скитаний,

Страна Любви - великая страна!

И с рыцарей своих для испытаний

Все строже станет спрашивать она.

Потребует разлук и расстояний,

Лишит покоя, отдыха и сна...

Но вспять безумцев не поворотить,

Они уже согласны заплатить.

Любой ценой - и жизнью бы рискнули,

Чтобы не дать порвать, чтоб сохранить

Волшебную невидимую нить,

Которую меж ними протянули...

Свежий ветер избранных пьянил,

С ног сбивал, из мертвых воскрешал,

Потому что, если не любил,

Значит, и не жил, и не дышал!

Но многих захлебнувшихся любовью,

Не докричишься, сколько не зови...

Им счет ведут молва и пустословье,

Но этот счет замешан на крови.

А мы поставим свечи в изголовье

Погибшим от невиданной любви...

Их голосам дано сливаться в такт,

И душам их дано бродить в цветах.

И вечностью дышать в одно дыханье,

И встретиться со вздохом на устах

На хрупких переправах и мостах,

На узких перекрестках мирозданья...

Я поля влюбленным постелю,

Пусть поют во сне и наяву!

Я дышу - и значит, я люблю!

Я люблю - и, значит, я живу!


Кто сказал: "Все сгорело дотла?

Больше в Землю не бросите семя"?

Кто сказал, что Земля умерла?

Нет! Она затаилась на время.

Материнство не взять у Земли,

Не отнять, как не вычерпать моря.

Кто поверил, что Землю сожгли?

Нет! Она почернела от горя.

Как разрезы, траншеи легли,

И воронки, как раны, зияют,

Обнаженные нервы Земли

Неземное страдание знают.

Она вынесет все, переждет.

Не записывай Землю в калеки!

Кто сказал, что Земля не поет,

Что она замолчала навеки?

Нет! Звенит она, стоны глуша,

Изо всех своих ран, из отдушин.

Ведь Земля - это наша душа,

Сапогами не вытоптать душу!

Кто поверил, что Землю сожгли?

Нет, она затаилась на время.


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Is that the Russian part of Apres Moi? If so, it's a poem. I don't have all the info right now, but you can probably find it if you look around in the Regina Yahoo community.

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Kali Mac,

No it's not from Apres Moi. The poem from Apres Moi if translated at the tip of the iceberg, says:

February. Take out the inks and weep!

Write about February on my moans,

In the mean time thundering sleet,

In the black Spring it burns.

But Pasternak cannot be converted into any other format other than Russian, just like Shakespeare cannot be converted into Russian...though Pasternak made a hell of a job with that! Wink

Anyway, if anyone understands those above would be great to know.

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I ran it through a translator, and here's what it said:

When water of a Flood

Has returned again to borders of coast,

From foam of a leaving stream

On coast the love has silently got out

Also it was dissolved in air up to term,

And term was forty сороков.

And odd fellows - still such are-

Inhale a full breast this mix.

And awards do not wait, наказанья,

And, thinking, that breathe simply so,

They suddenly get in a step

Same rough дыханья...

Only to feeling, as if the ship,

Long to remain on плаву,

Before to learn(find out), that " I like ",-

The same, that I breathe, or I live!

And will be wanderings and wanderings much,

The country of Love - the great country!

And from the knights for tests

All to ask she(it) begins more strictly.

Will demand separations and distances,

Will deprive with rest, rest and dream...

But back madmen not поворотить,

They already agree to pay.

At any cost - and a life would risk,

To not give to tear, to keep

Magic invisible string,

Which меж them have stretched...

The fresh wind of elite excited,

From legs(foots) forced down, from dead revived,

Because, if did not like,

Means, and not veins, and did not breathe!

But many choked love,

Not докричишься, how many do not call...

Him(It) the account is conducted with a rumour and idle talk,

But this account is involved on blood.

And we shall put candles in a headboard

The victim from unprecedented love...

To their voices is given to merge in a step,

And to souls of them is given to wander in colors.

And eternity to breathe in one breath,

And to meet a sigh on lips

On fragile ferries and bridges,

On narrow crossroads мирозданья...

I in love shall lay fields,

Let sing in dream and in reality!

I breathe - that is, I like!

I like - and, means, I live!


Who has told: " All has burned down completely?

It is more to the Earth will not throw a seed "?

Who has told, what the Earth has died?

No! She(it) has hidden for a while.

Motherhood to not take from the Earth,

To not take away, how to not take out the sea.

Who has believed, what the Earth сожгли?

No! She(it) has turned black from burning.

As cuts(sections), trenches have lain,

And воронки as wounds, gape,

Naked nerves of the Earth

Unearthly suffering know.

She(It) will bear(will take out) everything, will wait.

Do not write down the Earth in the cripple!

Who has told, that the Earth does not sing,

What has she(it) broken off forever?

No! She(it) rings, groans guzzling,

From all wounds, from outlets.

In fact the Earth is our soul,

Boots to not tread soul!

Who has believed, what the Earth сожгли?

No, she(it) has hidden for a while.

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There's some mistakes in the original posted but it wouldn't make the literal translation any worse than it already is. Kali was techniquely right, but you can't be too literal when translating poetry or literature without losing all original feeling and becoming robotic nonsense. You have to come to terms with the fact that the translations you are reading will never be the exact same effect as the original, the translator is only giving you their thoughts on what the original author was going for, which is all you can ask for.

Anyway, there is definitely an important part missing;



Volodya I don't know if you want the direct translation, which kali mac has given with what you provided or if you want a poetic view, neither of which I'm fully competent to give, but here's the translation I first read. I'm sure you can find others on the internet now that you know the author and title.



When, after all, the great deluge(flood) was over,

The seas came back within their coastal lines,

Out of the foam of the receding water

The love came out quietly to the land.

And, for some time, it faded in the air,

And lasted for a forty-forties span.

And some eccentrics that still do exist

Inhale with their full lungs that crazy mix

Expecting neither scolding nor rewarding

And thinking they are free to breathe it in

They realize one day that they fit in

Somebody else's intermittent breathing.

But remember: feeling like a boat

Is afloat until you realize:

That the words "I love" mean simply that

"I can breath" and "I am still alive".

There will be plenty of despair and roaming.

The land of love is the most noble land.

The knights of love will have to go through testing

With ever higher standards and demands.

They will be separated by a distance,

Devoid of leisure, sleep without rest.

But nothing in the world can turn them back.

Those madmen do agree to pay it back

With any price, their lives won't be excepted

In order to preserve and to protect

Some indiscernible and magic thread

Which is by love between them now extended.

Wind and snow swept them off their feet,

Made them drunk and raised them from the dead

'Cause remember you have neither lived,

Nor have breathed, if you have never loved.

And most of them have choked with love forever.

They can't be reached no matter what you do.

They are accounted by idle talk and rumor,

And that account is kneaded on the blood.

But we will light up candles in the memory

Of those who died from the unknown love.

Their souls will always roam the blossomed rink,

And their voices then will blend in rhythm.

They will inhale eternity together.

And somewhere on a fragile river cross,

On narrow bridges of the universe

With a deep breath, they will then meet each other.

I will open fields for those who love!

Let them sing awake and in their rest.

I do breathe and that means I'm in love.

I'm in love and that means I exist.

* * *

The hanging fir paws are trembled by wind,

While chirping of birds is quite anxious.

You live in a wild and so spellbound weald

From which an escape is so hopeless...

Let the bird-cherry tree dry to death in the blast.

Let the lilac leaves fall off like raindrops.

I am still gonna take you away from this place

To the palace with sounds of reed-pipes!

Your world by the wizards for ten hundred years

Is hidden from me and from sun rays.

Thus you still believe that there's nothing so dear

And beautiful as this blear forest.

Let the moon be at odds with the overcast sky.

Let the leaves have no dew in the morning.

I am still gonna take you away from this site

To the tower facing the briny!

Which day of the week, what a glorious hour

You'll come to me out of your hiding,

And I'll carry you far away in my arms

Where nobody will ever find you.

I will steal you away if it pleases your heart!

Didn't I squander in vain all those past years?

Look, I promise you heaven within our hut,

Should there be no tower or palace.

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Wow Mr. REinhardt!

You are right...I missed something out. So I have found someone who "understands these lines". I also missed: В. Высоцкий, Песня о Земле, V. Vysotsky, "Begin to Hope" or as he calls it in Russian: "Song about the Earth".

Yes indeed you cannot translate those lines into any other language.

Have you read Master and Margarita? You know Mikhail Afanasyevich is an ооочень талантливый human being...and this generally means that not one can translate it...unless they really REALLY understand why Bulgakov picked Yerushalaim, Moskva in early May or so in 1929 and let Walker...I mean Woland roam. But we are not in May yet, and I'm still working on that big problem.

But yes, even people who translate poetry cannot capture the meaning....unless of course they have both cultures in them and can encode all of that information into another language...but there aren't many people like that, sadly. I mean you need someone who has a mind that has experienced both cultures, and can relay both sides of the story without any skeweness or added touches by our very trusted media. Generally I see a lot of that skeweness shining in most movies for example (haven't seen one that captured both). And I certainly cannot do a good job of translating these kinds of things...because it is imposible. It's like taking out all of the colour. But there is hope, I heard of a musician who is getting both sides (and not just both sides...but all sides), seems like an ооочень талантливый human being.

Django, it seems that you understand what I am talking about, ну а вторую песню вы знаете?

But now it seems you have also left out an important piece:


В. Высоцкий

Здесь лапы у елей дрожат на весу,

Здесь птицы щебечут тревожно.

Живешь в заколдованном диком лесу,

Откуда уйти невозможно.

Пусть черемухи сохнут бельем на ветру,

Пусть дождем опадают сирени -

Все равно я отсюда тебя заберу

Во дворец, где играют свирели.

Твой мир колдунами на тысячи лет

Укрыт от меня и от света.

И думаешь ты, что прекраснее нет,

Чем лес заколдованный этот.

Пусть на листьях не будет росы поутру,

Пусть луна с небом пасмурным в ссоре,-

Все равно я отсюда тебя заберу

В светлый терем с балконом на море.

В какой день недели, в котором часу

Ты выйдешь ко мне осторожно?

Когда я тебя на руках унесу

Туда, где найти невозможно?

Украду, если кража тебе по душе,-

Зря ли я столько сил разбазарил?

Соглашайся хотя бы на рай в шалаше,

Если терем с дворцом кто-то занял!

Django, I would love to hear your "incompetent poetic view" of why the Earth has frozen, and see if it matches with my "incompetent poetic view".

By the way have you ever heard:


Они могут из космоса бить по земле,

Они могут из города сделать скелет,

Но секретная служба доносит в досье:

Господин генерал, они думают все.

Они думают все о девчонках в цветах,

Они думают все о весенних садах

И о том, как бы вас уложить наповал...

Разрешите идти, господин генерал!


Ой и извините что я опять пропустил кое что...

И я вообще не предпочитал что Вы "поклонник" Владимира Высоцкого, это потрясающее совпадение, я в восхищении,

Нам после этого прибавили срока,

И вот теперь мы - те же самые зэка -

зэка Васильев и Петров зэка.

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Hmm... it seems neither of us omit in vain. One could "understand those lines" without full comprehension, so translation is futile; much like my poetic view of why the Earth has frozen.

The Master and Margerita; if I didn't know Bulgakov's style beforehand I could have easily read any version and been very amused and satisfied with the book. That not being the case it drove me crazy for a while because you kind of feel like you're getting cheated out of his genuine talent. Do you think that was a love story? More important, who do you think was the narrator? I don't have both cultures in me, only an inquiring mind which fails me from time to time; so if you have any light to shed please do.

"Song about the Earth" I do know it well, but apparently not as well as I should. Very clever and appropritate tie-in.


Кто поверил, что Землю сожгли?

Нет, она затаилась на время.

And finally our man Jurij Iosifovich. I truthfully haven't looked too much into Vizbor, but I wouldn't have been familiar with the aforementioned if he hadn't struck my interest. I have a few plateau's to overcome before I can venture any further.

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I'm impressed, even the people that are from Moscow (and many people who are Russian and living in St. Petersburg) are starting to forget (or they have never heard of) Vizbor! I swear...I've met about 4 people (under the age of 35, who don't know Vizbor!), and 2 of them are almost "proper" Москвичи!

Vizbor, much like Vysotsky, and much like Bulgakov, is another person who writes text that has major applications. He also wrote an amazing amount about the Earth, he seemed to have a good connection. His first wife Ада Якушева has one of the most beautiful voices (though Жанна Бичевская and Татьяна Никитина are close) out of all the bards who sing mostly in Russian, that I've heard, and Ada along with Vizbor actually sang and wrote together for some time. But almost no one remembers Ada, for example I have a professor with whom I have been working with who is actually from Moskva (МГУ) from a generation that gave us soooo much, but he hadn't heard of Ada Yakusheva when I asked him. Vizbor, of course, but no Ada.

OK, here are some lines (you can get a lot from and ):

(though the full version of the poem cannot be taken literally in some lines, otherwise one might go crazy):

В голове моего математика

Вся Вселенная встала вверх дном.

А у Новой Земли ходит Арктика,

Ходит Арктика ходуном.

Ходят белые льды, как дредноуты,

Бьются, будто бы богатыри.

Ах давно бы ты мне, ах давно бы ты

Написала б странички две-три.


С математиком, серым, как олово,

Скоро бросим прощанья слезу.

Привезет он в Москву свою голову,

Я другое совсем привезу.


That was all from 1 poem, which is pretty entertaining. On the more "serious" side, there is "Да обойдут тебя лавины" which Юрий Иосифович and Ада Адамовна wrote together (some verses are below), and I prefer the Ada version of the music (both versions can be found at the site).

Да обойдут тебя лавины

В непредугаданный твой час!

Снега со льдом наполовину

Лежат, как будто про запас,

По чью-то душу, чью-то душу...

Но, я клянусь, не по твою!

Тебя и горе не задушит,

Тебя и годы не убьют.

Ты напиши мне, напиши мне,

Не поленись и напиши:

Какие новые вершины

Тебе видны среди вершин,

И что поделывают зори,

Твой синий путь переходя,

И как Домбай стоит в дозоре,

Подставив грудь косым дождям.

Ada also has a poem called "Ты Моё Дыхание" which is very nice (especially her voice).

There is also from Vizbor (the full version has nice applications):

И нет там ничего -

Ни золота, ни руд,

Там только-то всего,

Что гребень слишком крут.

И слышен сердца стук,

И страшен снегопад,

И очень дорог друг,

И слишком близок ад.

Django venture venture venture! Don't worry about the plateaus. I have a HUGE amount of these plateaus too, but I try to go with the вертикаль, and most of the time it works...until the inquisitive mind runs out of steam...I guess that's when I hit the plateau, but sometimes it's below me.

But one cannot "understand" those lines without full comprehension...I mean when I say "understand" I mean..."understand" not just "know the definition of the words". Django, I would not say I have full comprehension yet...but I do have a "fully futile poetic view" of those lines.

I wouldn't say that I had both cultures in me fully either, but I try my best. I sometimes try to keep one of them temporarily out (since I have some catching up to do on the other side of the preparation for МГУ) but sooner or later I find myself in that mix again or sometimes English just takes over, since this is what language was used to hammer all that nonsense into people's heads in the UK. Anyway that inquiring mind is a key here, and yes it fails every now and then on me too.

Master and Margarita does not have a category, sorry. When Gabriel Garcia Marquez was asked if he had read Master and Margarita before writing 100 Years of Solitude, he replied "Unfortunately I had not heard of Bulgakov before writing 100 Years of Solitude" or something along those lines. They have a similar style. They are in a league of their own, and what you read on their paper, is not generally what is happening up there. They have this "penetrating" ability that very few people have. You're lucky that you read the version you read...but remember the full version was not out until 1987 or so. Even now I doubt we have what Bulgakov fully wrote...poor guy burned the first version (но если вы помните, уважаемый, рукописи не горят), but still I don't think they put the whole version out, but thank God that Dzugashvili let Миша live.

Since Master and Margarita is about everything on a very BIG scale, you can class it as many things. Yes indeed it's a love story, yes indeed it's a documentary. Oh that reminds me! Django if you haven't seen it already, Vladimir Bortko came out with a TV series for Master and Margarita! He also did "A Dog's Heart" in the late 80's, when the novel was released (though written in 1924! Total idiotism on the part of those psychos). Some critics in Russia take it too personally, but I think it's an amazing adaptation of Master and Margarita. I would say the first successful one anyway. If you can get a hold of it check it out (I think the web-site is: So who is the narrator in Master and Margarita? Well that question has the same answer as "Who is the Master?", or "Who threw the pages into the oven?". That novel has a very interesting history. But poor Bulgakov, didn't get to live in a time when people would read him, it's just a miracle that Dzugashvili let him live.

Margarita also acts as a narrator, without her the Master would not have written that lovely novel, and Margarita as well as Bulgakov's wife play parts in that novel.

Django, I'll show you some more talent from Visbor and co. and will post on here, if you would like. How familiar are you with Vysotsky?

How much of Bulgakov do you know? has a nice collection, the library even has his work in a less detailed black and white format (the translations I mean).

OK, so what about Pasternak, what are your thoughts on Борис Леонидович?

Visbor sings a nice piece about such people:

По прекрасному Чюрленису,

Иногда - по Остроухову

Мчались мы с одной знакомою

На машине "Жигули".

Заезжали в Левитана мы,

В октябри его пожухлые,

Направлялись мы к Волошину,

Заправлялись как могли

По республике Цветаевой,

Через область Заболоцкого

С нами шла высоковольтная

Окуджавская струна.

Поднимались даже в горы мы,

Покидая землю плоскую,

Между пиком барда Пушкина

И вершиной Пастернак.

That is taken from Спутники.

Эх вот бы ум у всех людей был в порядке постоянно...но эти всё время ловят и опять надо вырываться.


Каждому хочется малость погреться -

Будь ты хоть гомо, хоть тля,-

В космосе шастали как-то пришельцы -

Вдруг впереди Земля,

Наша родная Земля!


И мозгу у пришельцев -

Килограмм примерно шесть,-

Ну, а у наших предков -

Только челюсти и шерсть.

Нет бы - раскошелиться,

И накормить пришельца...

Нет бы - раскошелиться,

А он - ни мычит, ни телится!

Обидно за предков!


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