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Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 22:18

Открываю новую тему специально для английских переводов, предложенных Jacob Gore.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 22:47

Ai-Pee, Ai-Tee, Three-Gee - Ай Пи, Ай Ти, Три Джи
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

I see all my wondrous children
lately only from behind:
Like the pox, the Internet's
infected every child of mine.
They see nothing that’s not online!
“I am home,” I say, once, twice,
and a nape choir is responding,
“Hello, Papa, very nice.”
Screens are glowing from the corners
just like icons in an apse.
I forget, my oldest daughter,
pretty sure, has brown eyes?
Six computers keep kids spoiled,
plus one more that’s by the toilet,
so that they can stay connected as they piss.

Ai-Pad, Ai-Pod…
Am I an idiot or what?
Ai-Tee, Eitch-Dee,
Pee-See, See-Dee, Dee-Vee-Dee…
My brain’s all goop!
And there you go, my friend, look,
you’re reading your Ee-Book.

And my memory is drifting
through the thick nostalgic haze
to those golden and uplifting
to those pre-computer days,
to the contact, to the laughing
on that joyous happy plane,
when we drank Royal Feinsprit with
only drops of warm spring rain.
We connected without e-mail,
in the flesh our love we’d get,
and all kinds of morons didn’t
try to reach us through the Net.
No-one tried to write us “comments,”
we lived blissfully not knowing
that our world’s so full of idiots from hell.

Ai-Tunes, Ai-Phone,
like in a dream, life goes on.
Ai-girl, Ai-boy
all night online with no joy.
Ai-dark, Ai-fuck!
And I sit here like a schmuck —
Mac-Book, Mc-Duck, Big Mac.

Little children, never, never-ever-ever
in the Internet be playing by yourselves!
It is full of sharks, gorillas leave their cages,
evil pedophiles are hunting from its pages!

What do kids say of their Papa?
“What a Luddite retrograde!”
“Pull the plug, and let’s go hiking,
see the nature, forest, lake!”
“Take a hike, Papa!” they tell me,
so I slowly hike along,
and my interface is dated
and keeps hanging up my song.
I’m an obsoleted gadget,
yet I want some love and warmth,
but on cyberspace’s pages
these things haven’t taken growth.
To the bedroom then my wife
from the kitchen calls by Skype —
“Whatcha up to? How’s it going, overall?”

Three-Gee, Three-Dee…
I’m done with whining, you’ll see.
Wi-Fi, Hi-Fi,
Let’s have a drink, you and I!
Blu-Ray, Okay!
Let’s have that drink right away.
Blu-Ray — we’ll drink today!

Hi-Tech, Jay-Peg,
Tee-Vee, Ai-Pee, Em-Pee-Three,
Ai-Tee, Eitch-Dee,
Pee-See, See-Dee, Dee-Vee-Dee…
Got caught in Word?
Ai-Tunes, Ai-Phone, Grammophone,
Ai-Pee, Ai-Tee, Three-Gee.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:03

Blondes and Brunettes - Блондинки и брюнетки
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

Dark hair is what really does it for me,
a brunette is sure to drive me mad.
But they say that it's a lucky omen
even once to take a blonde to bed.
And who's in demand on today's market,
who's in fashion, wanted day and night:
full-lipped brightly blonde beautiful darlings,
with a touch of bitchiness inside.

Each one's breast is, naturally, perky,
like a rosebud, wonder to behold —
must be wonderful to kiss such cocky,
firm and never sagging silicone!
With great legs and torso — sheer sweetness,
top rate ass and belly, all can see!
Next to them, a Botticelli's Venus
would not get past casting on TV.

In our big-brother show, "House Two",
the women — gems all, through and through,
all young, all trim, all beauties, all beyond compare!
And when to bed to go it's time…
If they'd just hide what's in their minds,
you'd think, what priceless women must be staying there!

We're no monks, we've nothing against beauty.
But yet we've said that beauty's from within.
And now?
Now peroxide colors every cutie,
what a blonding boom we're living in!
Some young fool by high life gets enamored,
wishes to become a striking blonde,
to be bathed from head to toes in glamour,
get a stunning body of her own.

Soon she'll find a gentleman with money
and will clamp onto him like a crab;
He'll say, "You've got something there, honey!"
after her new breasts she lets him grab.
Rendezvous in luxury will follow,
earrings, furs and trinkets of all kinds;
he will get to know her and to own her,
paying off her debts he will not mind.

"Oplateel — obladai": "paid it — own it"!
Simply "oplateel — obladai".
"Oplateel — obladai": "paid it — own it"!
Simply "oplateel — obladai".

While the gentleman, he owns this wonder,
Wonder will need only but a year
to strip him to the bone like a piranha,
then she will move on to her next meal.
And on television, on a talk show
pouting her new lips, she'll shyly tell
how she there was beaten, bullied,
and insulted and just sullied,
and how her whole life was living hell.

Suffering is in her every gesture,
eyes — resigned, in tragic sadness mourn.
Fiddling with her little cross, so restless —
Sonya Marmeladova, reborn!
Gentlemen with money, think it over,
don't rush in the next time, let it pass,
don't confuse Natasha from Rostov and
fictional Natashenka Rostova!
Tolstoy isn't here or he'd have told us —
well, at least Zhvanetsky's here for us!

But let's be honest for a spell —
brunettes can chomp you up as well,
once you are caught, you will forever be in debt!
So gentlemen, we must conclude,
the color of her hair is moot,
a decent person is what you should want to get!

Girls!
You don't need a surgeon and you know it,
there's no need for you to bleach your curls —
color of your hair, like spouse's wallet,
that is something to be thankful for.
Our whole country's drowning in the dark, and
who is shining for us in that dark?
Both the brunette Tina Kandelaki,
and a blonde named Ksenia Sobchak.

No, a blonde I would not ever turn down,
all my passion to her I would bring.
But who asked me anyway? Well, no-one,
that's why with such courage I can sing.
Even if a blonde stood there stark-naked,
I would pass her by without a glance,
that's because I only love brunettes, and
not every brunette, but only one.

That's because only I love brunettes, and
not every brunette, but only one!
Last edited by Jacob Gore on 15.03.2015 16:44, edited 1 time in total.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:08

My Beloved One - Моя любимая
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

How about we two sit back,
and forget about all flack,
and together we get la-
zy, my beloved one.
By the window we will sit
and good red wine we will sip —
look how wonderful this night
is, my beloved one!

Long as life may last,
this joy will not be lost.
Pity, all must pass,
as great our prayers may be.
You are my true love,
and I… I’m your cross.
But don’t cast me down,
please, bear me!

My life’s been a busy waste,
every day is in more haste.
Please forgive me for this pace,
oh my beloved one.
I’m a poet, so they say,
and it’s always been that way.
You’ve been suffering each day
with me, beloved one.

Long as life may last,
this joy will not be lost.
Pity, all must pass,
as great our prayers may be.
You are my true love,
I am your heavy cross.
But don’t cast me down,
please, bear me!

Long as life may last,
this joy will not be lost.
Pity, all must pass,
as great our prayers may be.
You are my true love,
and I… I’m your cross.
But don’t cast me down,
Пожалуйста, неси!

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:13

When They Will Show Me on TV - Когда меня покажут на ТВ
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

Why, oh why, do they not want me on TV?
I can’t fathom what on Earth the cause could be!
I’m as quiet as the softest summer breeze,
I’m as harmless as a lamb out on a lea.

True, I do not shy away from bitter words,
and sometimes crude lines do get away from me.
I can’t help that jerks keep rising to the top!
Why blame me? I’m only singing what I see.

Channel One, check if you please,
has choked off all that could breathe,
now for breakfast it serves syrup as you munch.
In the evening, Channel Two will
show the same mugs serving same swill,
singing all the same songs that you’d heard for lunch.

I set records picking daisies in the fields,
I gaze into deep blue lakes, I hike the views.
It is true, am no Baskov, that’s not me,
but to my country I can also be of use.

Let me sing for News Show Vremya my best song!
That baloney Kremlin watches all the time.
Our leader’ll hear me sing, and he will sob,
“Now I get it. I’ll immediately resign.”

Channel One put on a show
’bout a maniac we all know,
with our viewers any maniac’s a hit.
Then the country watched, enraptured,
as a pedophile got captured.
Phillip Kirkorov will be singing in a bit!

How can I get on, to capture hearts and souls?
Finally, a perfect plan has come to me:
I will turn into a maniac myself,
and then for sure I will be shown on TV!

Choir:
And then for sure, and then for sure,
and then for sure, and then for sure,
and then for sure he will be shown on TV!
And then for sure, and then for sure,
and then for sure, and then for sure,
and then for sure he will be shown on TV!

The TV is a device of Devil’s spawn,
and I swear, that I have witnessed this last night:
just as soon as morning roosters crowed at dawn,
turned itself off it did, fearing the light.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:19

На мой дилетантский и беглый взгляд — очень даже! :apl:

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:21

Wider Prospects - Перспективы
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

Cut down on smokes, my friend, my headache’s getting thicker.
And truth be told, my friend, you just don’t look so good.
You’re out of dough, you say? Then buy a Keno ticket!
You don’t believe in lottery? You should!
The path from pessimism to heart attack is certain.
We’re all up what, you say? How narrow’s that of you!
You’re no proctologist, my friend, so time to surface.
For wider prospects, take the panoramic view.

And the prospects are:
You check your Keno card, what a day it’s been!
And your winnings are unbelievable!
Spanish villa, yacht! On the contrary,
can’t go wrong, my friend, with the lottery!

Have a beer, see things in context, rest, kick up your feet…
Oh, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!
Oh, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!

Used to be that:
You go up on a hilltop when the nature beckons,
you see the Soviet lands spread out left and right.
The prospect’s Communism, maybe in four decades.
Now there’s a prospect for you, if I might!
But to your balcony you exit at this hour,
and who-knows-what spreads out right before your eyes.
And in your prospects, there’s the same old dude in power,
and, rumor has it, he has nine lives.

Airplane in flight, both its engines work,
President aboard, he talks gangsta talk,
He says, “Aren’t you tired yet of eating dust?”
He can prospects see wider than all of us.

New directives — straight from Moscow, everyone take heed!
So, citizens, Item One: “Life is crap.”
Item Two: “But wider prospects are very good indeed!”
Item One: “Yes, life is crap.”
Item Two: “But wider prospects are very good indeed!”

Statistics show that in the second fiscal quarter
the speed of rate of theft is showing major growth.
What is still left to be embezzled, it’s reported,
will run out in a year, two at most.
And after that, after the last ruble is stolen,
our government will voluntarily dissolve,
and all the bosses will resign the posts they’re holding:
why bother govern, when there is no theft involved?

And our Motherland will be perfect then:
all is long sold off, all is pocketed.
We’ll be starving then, we’ll be naked, cold,
but such proud men, and so free and bold!

All so pretty and so perfect, let us all admit:
“Ah, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!
Ah, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!”

The night sky’s canopy is shrouding the whole planet,
a night light of the moon is glowing dim and kind —
it seems the Lord wishes to fall asleep but cannot,
and restless thoughts keep running through His mind.
On Judgement Day, our mob of resurrected fellows,
will be divided, sinners — left, and saints go right.
We’ll all start heading left, “Go right!” the host will tell us,
“Along with others who have suffered all their lives.”

As many Russians there, as in a Turkish bath,
the constitution says, we’re owed some rest at last.
Food and shelter there, under every tree,
and man, the women there!.. But we’ll wait and see.

Why just sit there, sad and lost, friend? Dance! Up on your feet!
Yes, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!
Oh, life is crap, but wider prospects — very good indeed!

Re: Песни в английском переводе

14.03.2015 23:58

Я в английском разбираюсь на уровне "cup of tea".
Но перевел гугл-переводчиком. Интересно! Jacob Gore, спасибо!

Только как понять человеку не из Советского Союза: - "Я в полях ромашки рву, как заводной, я хожу, в озера синие гляжусь..." и другие подобные вещи?
И на английском языке теперь нужен Толковый Словарь.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

15.03.2015 00:00

rafiki wrote:Только как понять человеку не из Советского Союза: - "Я в полях ромашки рву, как заводной, я хожу, в озера синие гляжусь..."

Потому ТС и сказал, что всё равно не поймут.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

15.03.2015 10:10

Я хотел бы как-нибудь добавить под некоторыми словами ссылки для людей не погруженных в Российскую (и бывшую Советскую) культуру. Например, ромашки и озёра синие подчеркнуть и направить на описание (и может перевод) той песни. Так же с «Если у вас, если у вас, если у вас папы нет».

А иногда просто можно ссылку на Википедию сделать. Канделаки, Собчак, Жванецкий, Басков, Киркоров - в англоязычном мире они не известны, но про них есть странички. Литературные герои более известны, но пожалуй только среди эрудитов.

Нет никаких иллюзий, что эти песни вдруг Лэди Гага запоёт, но есть люди которые интересуются иноязычными песнями, и конкретно русскими, но языка достаточно не знают.

Но некоторые песни просто нет смысла переводить, это факт.

(А то что Google Translate из них делает в обратном переводе - просто потешно :lol:)

Re: Песни в английском переводе

15.03.2015 10:27

Я тоже не могу оценить с точки зрения понимания нюансов. Так, рифмы, вроде, на месте.
Но "облади-облада" или "ботать по фене" им не понять
Перевод оценить сможет наш Юрик Ushwood...
Он же профи в этом вопросе.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

15.03.2015 11:01

Jacob Gore wrote:Я хотел бы как-нибудь добавить под некоторыми словами ссылки для людей не погруженных в Российскую (и бывшую Советскую) культуру. Например, ромашки и озёра синие подчеркнуть и направить на описание (и может перевод) той песни.

Это - благодарный труд! Подобно переводам "Алисы" Л. Кэррола.
Толковый словарь есть на нашем форуме. А для понимания нужно найти местные аналогии.
(Например, для тех же "Ромашек" недостаточно просто перевода. В этой песне - и символ времени, и идеологическая обработка, в результате - востребованность на ТВ, и, как следствие - неминуемая популярность.)
Наверняка есть такой аналог в Америке.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

15.03.2015 17:11

Спасибо за труд и выкладку, Jacob Gore!
В Америке и Австралии теперь и местные аборигены на концерт потянутся...во всяком случае будут в курсе насчёт исполняемого...

Re: Песни в английском переводе

17.03.2015 22:52

Jacob Gore, очень хорошо! Как говорят у нас в Болгарии: "Голяма РАбота!"
Про Лэди Гагу понравилось :apl:

И много ли у Вас знакомых, которым это будет интересно?
Я к чему спрашиваю: сюда-то они наверняка не зайдут. А как они, интересующиеся, узнают о Вашем труде? Как будем популяризировать?

Re: Песни в английском переводе

17.03.2015 23:34

Пожалуй с Facebook начну. А каким образом Вы нашли эту тему? Может я не куда надо смотрю, но с домашней страницы этого сайта я к ней пути не нашёл.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

19.03.2015 23:09

Ой, Jacob Gore, простите, это Вы у меня спрашиваете, как я нашла эту тему? :scratch:
Я просто нажала кнопку "активные темы" в левом верхнем углу, под окном проверки грамотности. И, возможно, это я совсем не так смотрю: "домашняя страница этого сайта".... :sos: ауууу, форумцы! Скажите мне, как найти "домашнюю страницу этого сайта", пожаааалуйста! Это?
Image

Jacob Gore, а на ФБ Вы в друзьях с Тимуром Шаовым?
Три из них Тимур Султанович видел на концерте в Москве 8-го февраля. Сказал после антракта, что рад что англоязычным будут доступны некоторые...

Думаю, будет очень правильно передать тексты самому Тимуру. Вполне вероятно, тексты пригодятся ему на концертах в англоязычных странах. Хотя, :kin: на его концерты во всех странах ходят русскоговорящие.
Ну, а вдруг... Австралия, Нов.Зеландия. В Лондоне как-то был концерт.
Петь только учусь, и то классику, а гитару давно забыл, так что сам записать в переводе не смог бы.

Вот кто бы нам эти песни на английском "прославил под гитару"?
Было бы здОрово, если была запись. Я точно в машине бы постоянно слушала, и своим англоязычным друзьям отправила.

Конечно, ждем продолжения!

Re: Песни в английском переводе

20.03.2015 13:10

Я тоже всегда жму на "Активные темы", а если тема старая и её в активных нет, то в поиске по названию всегда найдётся. Но в данном случае тема активная.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

23.03.2015 22:02

A Goy's Song - Песня Гоя
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

I was born a goy, so happened,
yes, sometimes that's how it happens,
no big deal, just didn't have the luck.
But their God took pity on me,
many Jewish friends He sent me,
all the best among them — bless His heart!

I wish they all lived together,
it would sure ease my travels,
but more restless nation you won't find.
My Jews spread all o'er the planet,
from New York to Sydney, damn it,
now all year around I have to fly.

When I get there, I say:

"Take a brake from work, my boys, come see me!
Come on, just declare a Sabbath with me!"
And my pals say, as they grin,
like I was their closest kin:

"Oy,
goy,
hello, my dear boy!
Sing to us about a tomtit's life beyond the sea!
So, how's
the empire doing now?
And did Kabaeva for real have a son with him?"

If right now in North Korea,
just a few Jews lived, my dear,
then a decent country it would be!
We would have our half percent there,
I would give my concerts then there,
but none of them are moving there,
but none of them are moving there,
but none of them are moving there, you see.

I'm myself an aging artist,
an eternal-Jew guitarist,
all over this world with songs I go.
I asked a Rebbe, for my journal,
"Are any Circassians eternal?"
He replied, "If only yes, but no"!

And all of my dear yiddishe mamas,
Lyubas, Mashas, Innas, Tanyas, Zhannas
feed gefilte fish to me
as they sing with sympathy:

"Oy,
goy,
you're such a skinny boy!
Mother Russia starves to death her most deserving sons!
So small,
hardly eats at all,
looks like that bloodthirsty Kremlin stole and ate up all."

To my friend I said, "Mark, dearest,
in the wrongest place thou livest!
Go forth to the desert, some Jew you are!"
He was so offended by me,
he went forth. Moved to Miami.
There he mourns his country from afar.

Through the desert then I wandered,
only humus ate, and pondered,
thinking to myself, "Why did their God,
for a covenant land choosing,
picked this place to promise to them —
what, He couldn't find a cooler spot?"

Suddenly, I saw a bush on fire,
and it talked to me, as I perspired.
It smoked, sparkled and burned free,
as it spoke these words to me:

"Oy,
goy,
go back home, my boy!
What's with this reconnoissance, what do you want to know?
Ask, don't guess!
This place is simply bliss!
Desert in the summer's pleasant — goys just don't get this."

So go back home I will
and for a great big meal,
like Moses, gather people as my guests!
And with my goyish wife
I'll have drink to life
and wish my friends good health and all the best!

Yes, go back home I will
and for a great big meal,
like Moses, gather people as my guests!
And with my goyish wife
have a stiff drink to life
and wish my friends good health and all the best!
Last edited by Jacob Gore on 12.04.2015 09:28, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Песни в английском переводе

23.03.2015 22:36

Здорово! Я так со временем английский выучу. :apl: :appl: :apl:

Re: Песни в английском переводе

09.04.2015 19:59

Эх, яблочко!
Народная песня

Эх, яблочко, куда ты котишься?
Ко мне в рот попадёшь—не воротишься!

Эх яблочко, да на тарелочке!
Надоела мне жена—пойду к девочкам.

Oh, Apple Dear!
Russian folk song (transl. Jacob Gore)

Oh, apple dear, where are you rolling to?
If you roll to my mouth, that's the end of you!

Oh, apple dear, up on a little plate,
I am tired of my wife, I'll go on a date.


Oh, Apple Dear! - Эх, яблочко!
(Transl. Jacob Gore)

Having lunch out in the park,
in fresh air,
I see her as she strolls by,
maiden fair,
a James Joyce book in hand—it's a sign of an exquisite hipness.
With a slightly snobbish pout,
wistful glance,
looking longingly about—
elegance!
Oh, it has been so long since so much sex appeal I have witnessed!

Oh, apple dear, on a little plate,
this girl has to be approached with nuance and grace.
Oh, apple dear, I just might as well,
I will shamelessly walk up, introduce myself!

I'm an artist, I tell her,
underground,
I'm a non-conformist poet,
underground,
and I also love Joyce, and please, do not think I am some pervert.
She presents to me her hand—
a coquette!
My bait's taken just as planned—
the hook is set!
Now to reel the catch in, I must keep working patiently on it.

Oh, apple dear, my words must be wise.
My vocabulary shined, I quotationized.
Oh, apple dear, my fruit tropical,
our discussions were just so… philosophical.

Like:
Emotional, frustrational, novational, fellatial,
"Have you read Rape of Lucrece?" — "Is your potency substantial?"
I tell myself, "Horatio, but this much exaltation is
much more than our philosophers have dreamt!"

Night is falling.
Walked her to her house, right to her front door, right to her front door and…
Night is falling.
Hinted that I'd like to enter, maybe for a little coffee…
Night is falling…
She says, "My husband's gone tonight, come in."
Come on in!

To her boudoir we pass—
this is great!
Jin and Tonic in a glass—
truly great.
Says her husband does not understand her, that she's always lonely.
Says she's been a faithful wife—
I think, a lie.
Has been faithful all her life—
of course a lie!
If you're such a reflection of virtue, then why do you want me?

Oh, apple dear, there's no need to roll.
The dame had a little wine, lost all self-control.
Oh, apple dear, my drink not yet gone,
when she took away my glass, and just jumped my bones!

But the night did not end well—
once again.
Silently her husband came—
not again!
Not away, like she'd said, but right here, and he wants retribution.
He's from Kursk, from peasant stock,
like an ox,
drunk and angry as a boar,
mighty bloke.
I cried out, "We are civilized men, let us find a solution!"

Oh, apple dear, why do I chase broads?
He was pummeling by head with cast iron rods.
Oh, apple dear, 'twas no tournament.
I survived, but the concussion is permanent.

They are Trouble,
that's, my friend, what broads are, that's, my friend, what broads are.
They are Trouble.
In the head I'm sick now, in the head I'm weak now.
They are Trouble!
I walk around now mumbling all the time.
All the time!

"Duration and stagnation and oration and frustration
and cremation and castration and then electrification
and petition and sedition and incision and revision
and pollution and solution and then maybe revolution
and ambition and gradation. But what kind of installation?
And what is your motivation? But that's just defloweration!

And rotation and ovation and …"