Критика перевода как основа редакторской деятельности

То  в вышнем суждено  совете...

То  воля неба: я твоя;

Вся жизнь моя была залогом

Свиданья  верного с тобой;

Я знаю, ты мне послан богом,

До  гроба ты хранитель  мой...

Ты  в сновиденьях  мне являлся,

Незримый, ты мне был уж мил,

Твой  чудный взгляд меня томил,

В душе твой голос раздавался

Давно... нет, это был не сон! 

Ты  чуть вошел, я вмиг узнала,

Вся обомлела, запылала

И в мыслях молвила: вот он! 

Не  правда ль? я тебя слыхала:

Ты  говорил со мной в  тиши,

Когда я бедным помогала

Или молитвой услаждала

Тоску волнуемой души? 

И в это самое  мгновенье

Не  ты ли, милое виденье,

В прозрачной темноте  мелькнул,

Приникнул тихо к изголовью? 

Не  ты ль, с отрадой  и любовью,

Слова надежды мне шепнул?

Кто ты, мой ангел ли хранитель,

Или коварный искуситель: 

Мои сомненья разреши.

Быть  может, это всё  пустое,

Обман неопытной души! И  суждено совсем иное... 

Но  так и быть! Судьбу мою

Отныне  я тебе вручаю,

Перед тобою слезы лью,

Твоей защиты умоляю... 

Вообрази: я здесь одна,

Никто меня не понимает,

Рассудок  мой изнемогает,

И молча гибнуть  я должна. 

Я жду тебя: единым взором

Надежды сердца оживи,

Иль сон тяжелый перерви,

Увы, заслуженным укором!  

Кончаю! Страшно перечесть...

Стыдом  и страхом замираю...

Но  мне порукой ваша честь,

И смело ей себя вверяю... 

 

Приложение 2

Письмо  Татьяны к Онегину

(отрывок  из романа в  стихах А.С. Пушкина  «Евгений Онегин»)

Перевод Ч. Джонстона 

``I write to you -- no more confession

is needed, nothing's left to tell.

I know it's now in your discretion

with scorn to make my world a hell.

``But, if you've kept some faint impression

of pity for my wretched state,

you'll never leave me to my fate.

At first I thought it out of season

to speak; believe me: of my shame

you'd not so much as know the name,

if I'd possessed the slightest reason

to hope that even once a week

I might have seen you, heard you speak

on visits to us, and in greeting

I might have said a word, and then

thought, day and night, and thought again

about one thing, till our next meeting.

But you're not sociable, they say:

you find the country godforsaken;

though we... don't shine in any way,

our joy in you is warmly taken. 

``Why did you visit us, but why?

Lost in our backwoods habitation

I'd not have known you, therefore I

would have been spared this laceration.

In time, who knows, the agitation

of inexperience would have passed,

I would have found a friend, another,

and in the role of virtuous mother

and faithful wife I'd have been cast. 

``Another!... No, another never

in all the world could take my heart!

Decreed in highest court for ever...

heaven's will -- for you I'm set apart;

and my whole life has been directed

and pledged to you, and firmly planned:

I know, Godsent one, I'm protected

until the grave by your strong hand:

you'd made appearance in my dreaming;

unseen, already you were dear,

my soul had heard your voice ring clear,

stirred at your gaze, so strange, so gleaming,

long, long ago... no, that could be

no dream. You'd scarce arrived, I reckoned

to know you, swooned, and in a second

all in a blaze, I said: it's he! 

``You know, it's true, how I attended,

drank in your words when all was still --

helping the poor, or while I mended

with balm of prayer my torn and rended

spirit that anguish had made ill.

At this midnight of my condition,

was it not you, dear apparition,

who in the dark came flashing through

and, on my bed-head gently leaning,

with love and comfort in your meaning,

spoke words of hope? But who are you:

the guardian angel of tradition,

or some vile agent of perdition

sent to seduce? Resolve my doubt.

Oh, this could all be false and vain,

a sham that trustful souls work out;

fate could be something else again.., 

``So let it be! for you to keep

I trust my fate to your direction,

henceforth in front of you I weep,

I weep, and pray for your protection..,

Imagine it: quite on my own

I've no one here who comprehends me,

and now a swooning mind attends me,

dumb I must perish, and alone.

My heart awaits you: you can turn it

to life and hope with just a glance --

or else disturb my mournful trance

with censure -- I've done all to earn it! 

``I close. I dread to read this page...

for shame and fear my wits are sliding...

and yet your honour is my gage

and in it boldly I'm confiding''... 

 

Приложение 3

Письмо  Татьяны к Онегину

(отрывок  из романа в  стихах А.С. Пушкина  «Евгений Онегин»)

Перевод В.В. Набокова 

I write to you-what would one more?

What else is there that I could say?

‘Tis now, I know, within your will

to punish me with scorn.

But you, preserving for my hapless lot

at least one drop of pity,

you'll not abandon me.

At first, I wanted to be silent;

believe me: of my shame

you never would have known

if I had had the hope but seldom,

but once a week,

to see you at our country place,

only to hear you speak,

to say a word to you, and then

to think and think about one thing,

both day and night, till a new meeting.

But, they say, you're unsociable;

in backwoods, in the country, all bores you,

while we . . . in no way do we shine,

though simpleheartedly we welcome you.  

Why did you visit us?

In the backwoods of a forgotten village,

I would have never known you

nor have known this bitter torment.

The turmoil of an inexperienced soul

having subdued with time (who knows?),

I would have found a friend after my heart,

have been a faithful wife

and a virtuous mother.  

Another! . . . No, to nobody on earth

would I have given my heart away!

That has been destined in a higher council,

that is the will of heaven: I am thine;

my entire life has been the gage

of a sure tryst with you;

I know that you are sent to me by God,

you are my guardian to the tomb. . . .

You had appeared to me in dreams,

unseen, you were already dear to me,

your wondrous glance would trouble me,

your voice resounded in my soul

long since. . . . No, it was not a dream!

Scarce had you entered, instantly I knew you,

I felt all faint, I felt aflame,

and in my thoughts I uttered: It is he!  

Is it not true that it was you I heard:

you in the stillness spoke to me

when I would help the poor

or assuage with a prayer

the anguish of my agitated soul?

And even at this very moment

was it not you, dear vision,

that slipped through the transparent darkness

and gently bent close to my bed head?

Was it not you that with delight and love

did whisper words of hope to me?

Who are you? My guardian angel

or a perfidious tempter?

Resolve my doubts.

Perhaps, 'tis nonsense all,

an inexperienced soul's delusion, and there's

something quite different. . . . [destined  

But so be it! My fate

henceforth I place into your hands,

before you I shed tears,

for your defense I plead.

Imagine: I am here alone,

none understands me,

my reason sinks,

and, silent, I must perish.

I wait for you: revive

my heart's hopes with a single look

or interrupt the heavy dream

with a rebuke-alas, deserved!  

I close. I dread to read this over.

I'm faint with shame and fear . . . But to me

your honor is a pledge,

and boldly I entrust myself to it.