«Слово о полку Игореве»: Параллельный корпус переводов: Английский перевод Л. Винера

Английский перевод Л. Винера

Источник: : Anthology of Russian literature from the earliest period to the present time. Part I. — From the Tenth Century to the Close of the Eighteenth Century, 1902.

1. Were it not well for us, O brothers, to commence in the ancient strain the sad story of the armament of Ígor, Ígor son of Svyatosláv?
2. And let the song be told according to the accounts of the time, and not according to the cunning of Boyán the Wise
3. For Boyán the Wise, when he wished to make a song, soared with his thoughts in the tree, ran as a grey wolf over the earth, flew as a steel-grey eagle below the clouds.
4. When he recalled the strife of former time, he let loose ten falcons o'er a flock of swans, and every swan each touched sang first a song: to old Yarosláv, to brave Mstisláv who slew Redédya before the Kasóg army, to fair Román Svyatoslávich.
5. But Boyán, O brothers, did not let loose ten falcons on a flock of swans, but laid his inspired fingers on the living strings, and they themselves sounded the glory to the princes.
6. Let us begin, O brothers, this tale from Vladímir of old to the late Ígor who strengthened his soul by his valour, and sharpened it by the courage of his heart
7. and having filled himself with a manly spirit, led his valiant army for the land of Russia into the country of the Pólovtses.
8. Then Ígor looked up to the bright sun, and saw that he had covered in darkness all his warriors.
9. And Ígor spoke to his druzhína:
10. “O brothers and druzhína! It is better to be cut to pieces than to be made a captive!
11. Let us, O brothers, mount our swift horses that we may behold the beautiful Don!”
12. A strong desire filled the Prince’s soul to drink from the great Don, and his eagerness blinded him to the evil omen.
13. "For I wish,” he said, “to break the spear on the border of the Pólovts land together with you, sons of Russia! I want to lay down my head, and drink with my helmet from the Don!”
14. O Boyán, nightingale of ancient time! It were for you to spell this army, soaring like a nightingale over the tree of thought, flying like an eagle below the clouds, stringing together words for the deeds of that time, racing over Troyán’s footsteps over fields to the mountains.
15. You ought to have sung a song to Ígor, his grandson:
16. “Not a storm has driven the falcons over the broad fields: flocks of crows hasten to the great Don.”
17. Or you might have sung thus, inspired Boyán, grandson of Velés:
18. “The horses neigh beyond the Sulá; glory resounds in Kíev; trumpets blare in Nóvgorod; the standards are at Putívl; Ígor waits for his beloved brother Vsévolod.
19. And Vsévolod, the Grim Aurochs, spoke to him:
20. “My only brother, my only light, glorious Ígor, we are both sons of Svyatosláv!
21. Saddle, O brother, your swift steeds,
22. for mine are ready for you, having been saddled in advance at Kursk!
23. My Kurians are tried warriors, nurtured by the sound of trumpets, rocked in helmets, fed at the point of the spear.
24. The roads are known to them; the ravines are familiar to them; their bows are drawn; their quivers open, their swords — whetted.
25. They race over the fields like grey wolves, seeking honour for themselves, and glory for their Prince.”
26. Then Prince Ígor stepped into the golden stirrup and galloped over the clear field.
27. The sun barred his way in darkness;
28. night groaning with the cries of birds awoke him; beasts howled,
29. and Div called in the top of a tree, sending the news to the unknown land, to the Vólga, the Sea border, the Sulá country, Surózh and Korstún, and to you, idol of Tmútorokan!
30. But the Pólovtses hastened by untrodden roads to the great Don; the carts creaked at midnight, like swans let loose. Ígor leads his soldiers to the Don:
31. the birds in the thicket forbode his misfortune; the wolves bristle up and howl a storm in the mountain clefts; the eagles screech and call the beasts to a feast of bones; the foxes bark for the crimson shields.
32. O Russian land, you are already beyond the mound!
33. Night is long and murky;
34. the dawn withholds the light; mist covers the fields;
35. the nightingale's song is silent; the cawing of the crows is heard.
36. The Russians bar the long fields with their crimson shields, seeking honour for themselves and glory for the Prince.
37. Early in the morning, on the Friday, they crushed the pagan Pólovts host, and, spreading like arrows over the field, seized fair Pólovts maidens, and with them gold and gold-worked stuffs and costly velvet;
38. with cloaks and coats and Pólovts lace they bridged their way over bogs and muddy places.
39. A red flag, white pennon, red panache, silver cross-beam, for the brave son of Svyatosláv!
40. Olég's valiant brood has flown afar and dreams in the field!
41. They thought not to offend the falcon, gerfalcon, nor you, black raven, pagan Pólovts!
42. But Gza ran like a grey wolf, with Konchák in his track, to the great Don.
43. Very early the next morning a bloody dawn announces the day.
44. Black clouds come from the sea and try to veil four suns, while blue lightnings quiver through them.
45. There is to be a mighty thunder, and the rain is to go down in arrows by the great Don!
46. There spears will be broken; there swords will be blunted against Pólovts helmets on the Kayála, by the great Don.
47. O Russian land, you are already beyond the mound!
48. Behold the winds, Stribóg’s grandchildren, blow arrows from the sea on Ígor’s valiant army.
49. The earth groans, the rivers flow turbid; dust covers the fields;
50. the banners whisper. The Pólovtses come from the Don, and from the sea,
51. and from all sides: the Russian army recedes.
52. The devil’s children fill the field with their cries, but the brave Russians line it with their crimson bucklers.
53. Grim Aurochs Vsévolod! You stand in the van; you pour arrows on the warriors; you thunder with steel swords against their helmets.
54. Wherever you, Aurochs, lead, gleaming with your golden helmet, there fall the heads of the pagan Pólovtses,
55. their Avar helmets cloven by your tempered swords, Grim Aurochs Vsévolod!
56. What wound does he brook, O brothers, having forgotten his honours and manner of life, and Chernigov town, his paternal golden throne, and the caresses of his sweetheart, Glyeb’s fair daughter, and the habits and customs of his home?
57. Troyán’s age is past, gone are the years of Yarosláv; past are the expeditions of Olég, the son of Svyatosláv.
58. That Olég had fostered discord with his sword, and had sowed arrows over the land.
59. In Tmútorokan city he stepped into the golden stirrup.
60. Great Yarosláv, that was, heard the tocsin,
61. and Vsévolod’s son Vladímir closed his ears all the days at Chernigov.
62. But Glory brought Boris, the son of Vyachesláv, before the judgment seat and bedded him, brave young prince, on the green feather grass of the steppe, through Olég’s offence.
63. –
64. Then, in the days of Olég Gorislávich feuds were sown and grew, and Dazhbóg’s grandchildren perished, and the years of men were shortened by the discord of the princes.
65. In those days the warriors rarely walked behind the plough in the Russian land, but the ravens croaked as they divided the dead bodies, and crows chattered, flying to the banquet.
66. Such were the wars and expeditions then, but the like of this war was never known. From early morning until evening, from evening until daylight fly tempered arrows, thunder the swords against the helmets, resound the steel spears
67. in a strange field, within the country of the Pólovtses. The black earth beneath the hoofs was sown with bones, and watered with blood, and a harvest of sorrow went up in the Russian land.
68. What noise is that, what din,
69. so early in the morning before dawn? Ígor leads his army; he is sorry for his beloved brother Vsévolod.
70. They fought a day, they fought another; upon the third at noon fell the standards of Ígor.
71. The brothers separated on the bank of the swift Kayála.
72. Here there was not enough of bloody wine;
73. here the brave Russians ended the feast: they gave their host their fill to drink, and themselves fell for the Russian land.
74. The grass withered from sorrow, and the trees in anguish bent down to the earth.
75. There befell a hapless hour, O brothers! Already had the wilderness covered Russia’s hosts,
76. when Mischief arose in the hosts of Dazhbóg’s grandchildren: she walked as a maiden in Troyán’s land, splashed her swan pinions in the blue sea, and splashing them in the Don, recalled heavy times. Through the feuds
77. of the princes ruin came from the pagans, for brother spoke to brother: “This is mine and that is mine also,” and the princes said of trifling matters, “They are important,” and created discord among themselves;
78. and the pagans came from all sides victorious into the Russian land.
79. Oh, far has the falcon flown, driving the birds by the sea,
80. but Ígor’s brave army will rise no more!
81. Konchák called, and Gza raced over the Russian land,
82. hurling fire from a flaming horn. Russian women wept, saying:
83. “No longer will our thoughts reach our dear ones, nor shall we ever see them with our eyes, nor be adorned with tinkling gold and silver!”
84. And Kíev groaned under its sorrow, and Chernigov on account of its misfortunes.
85. Sadness spread over the Russian land, and a heavy gloom.
86. The princes fostered discord among themselves,
87. and the pagans victoriously overran the country, receiving tribute, a squirrel from each house.
88. It is Ígor and Vsévolod, Svyatosláv’s brave sons, who through their discord had wakened dishonour which their father, Svyatosláv of Kíev, the great, the mighty had, put to sleep:
89. he had invaded the Pólovts land and had carried terror to them, with his mighty armies and tempered swords; had levelled their hills and ravines, ruffled their rivers and lakes, dried up their streams and swamps; and, like a whirlwind, had snatched pagan Kobyák away from his mighty, steel-clad Pólovts army by the Azov Sea, until Kobyák fell in Kíev city, in the council-room of Svyatosláv.
90. Germans, Venetians, Greeks and Moravians sing the glory of Svyatosláv, but blame Prince Ígor who had merged his wealth in the Kayála, the Pólovts river, and had filled it with Russian gold.
91. Here Ígor was unseated from his golden saddle and placed upon the saddle of a slave.
92. The city walls were silent, and merriment was dead.
93. Svyatosláv saw a troubled dream:
94. “In Kíev on the mount you enveloped me last night,” he said, “in a black shroud on a bed of yew;
95. they poured out to me blue wine mixed with bitterness;
96. from empty quivers they showered large gems upon my lap,
97. and tried to comfort me. Already are there boards without a cross beam in my hall of gold,
98. and all night have the devilish crows been cawing.”
99. –
100. The boyárs spoke to the Prince:
101. “Prince, sorrow has enthralled your mind.
102. Two falcons flew from their paternal throne of gold to find the city of Tmútorokan, and anxious to drink from the Don with their helmets. The falcons’ wings have been clipped by the pagan swords, and they have been enmeshed in iron fetters.
103. On the third day it was dark: two suns were dimmed, two red torches went out, and with them two young moons, Olég and Svyatosláv, were shrouded in darkness.
104. On Kayála river darkness veiled the day:
105. the Pólovtses had invaded the Russian land, like a litter of lynxes.
106. –
107. –
108. –
109. Fair Gothic maidens sing upon the shore of the blue sea, tinkling with the Russian gold: they sing the times of Bus, recall Sharokán’s revenge.
110. But we, your druzhína, are anxious for the feast.”
111. Then great Svyatosláv uttered golden words, mingled with tears:
112. “Oh, my nephews, Ígor and Vsévolod! Too early did you begin to strike the land of the Pólovtses with your swords, and to seek glory for yourselves. You were vanquished ingloriously, for ingloriously have you spilled the blood of the pagans!
113. Your brave hearts are forged with hard steel and tempered in daring exploits.
114. See what you have done with my silvery hair!
115. I no longer see with me my mighty, warlike brother Izyasláv with his Chernigov druzhína. They overwhelmed their enemies with dirks, not bearing bucklers, but raising a warcry and resounding the glory of their forefathers.
116. But you spoke: We alone will vanquish! Let us ourselves gain the future glory, and share the glory of our fathers!
117. Why should not an old man feel young again?
118. When the falcon is moulting, he drives the birds far away, and allows not his nest to be hurt.
119. But alas, the princes will not aid me!
120. My years have turned to nothing.
121. At Rim they cry under the swords of the Pólovtses, and Vladímir groans under his, wounds.
122. Bitterness and sorrow has befallen the son of Glyeb!”
123. Grand Prince Vsévolod! Fly from afar not only in thought, but come to protect your paternal throne:
124. for you could dry up the Volga with your oars, and empty the Don with your helmets.
125. If you were here, a Pólovts slave-girl would be worth a dime, and a man-slave — half a rouble.
126. And you know, together with the brave sons of Glyeb, how to hurl the Greek fire on land.
127. You, Grim Aurochs Rúrik and David! Did not your golden helmets swim in blood?
128. Did not your valiant druzhína bellow like aurochses, when they were wounded by tempered swords in a strange field?
129. Put your feet, O lords, into your golden stirrups to avenge the insult to the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!
130. Yarosláv Osmomу́sl Gálich! You sit high upon your throne wrought of gold, propping with your iron-clad army the Carpathian mountains, barring the king's path, closing the gates of the Danube, hurling missiles higher than the clouds, sitting in judgment as far as the Danube.
131. Your thunders pass over the land, and you hold the key to the gates of Kíev; sitting on your paternal throne, you slay the sultans in their lands.
132. Slay, O lord, Konchák, the pagan villain, to avenge the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!
133. And you, valiant Román and Mstisláv! A brave thought carries you into action.
134. You fly high in your onslaught, like a falcon circling in the air, about to swoop down upon the birds.
135. You wear iron hauberks under Latin helmets, and the earth has trembled from you in many a pagan land: the Lithuanians, Yatvyágans, Deremélans and Pólovtses threw down their warclubs and bent their heads under those tempered swords.
136. But now, O Prince, Ígor’s sun is dimmed, — the tree, alas, has shed its leaves.
137. Along the Ros and the Sulá the Pólovtses have sacked the towns, but Ígor’s brave army will rise no more.
138. The Don calls you, O Prince, and the other princes to victory!
139. Olég’s sons have hastened to the war.
140. Íngvar and Vsévolod, and the three sons of Mstisláv, a mighty winged brood! Not by the lot of war have you acquired power.
141. Of what good are your golden helmets, and Polish warclubs and shields?
142. Bar the enemy’s way with your sharp arrows, to avenge the Russian land, the wounds of Ígor, the valiant son of Svyatosláv!
143. The Sulá no longer flows with a silvery stream by Pereyaslávl town, and the Dviná flows turbid by mighty Pólotsk, agitated by the pagans.
144. Izyasláv, Vasílko’s son, alone made his sharp swords ring against the Lithuanian helmets, outstripping the glory of his grandfather Vsesláv, but himself was worsted by Lithuanian swords, and fell under crimson shields, upon the bloodstained grass.
145. Lying on his death-bed, he spoke:
146. “O Prince, the birds have covered your druzhína with their wings, and the beasts have lapped their blood.”
147. There was not present the brother Bryachisláv, nor the other, Vsévolod; alone he lost the pearl soul out of his valiant body through the golden necklace.
148. The voices were subdued, merriment died away. The trumpets blare at Goródno.
149. Yarosláv and all grandchildren of Vsesláv! Furl your standards, sheath your blunted swords,
150. for you have leaped away from your grandfather’s glory!
151. You have with your discords invited the pagan hosts against the Russian land, against the life of Vsesláv,
152. for through your strife has come the enslávement by the Pólovts land. In the seventh age of Troyán,
153. Vsesláv cast his lot for his beloved maiden.
154. He bestrode his horse, and galloped to the city of Kíev, and with the thrust of the spear possessed himself of golden-throned Kíev.
155. He galloped hence as a grim beast to the south of Byélgorod, and disappeared in the blue mist;
156. next morning he clanked with the battering-ram, and opened the gates of Nóvgorod; he shattered the glory of Yarosláv,
157. and raced as a wolf to the Nemíga from Dudútki. On the Nemíga, ricks are stacked with heads, and they flail with tempered chains; the body is placed on the threshing-floor, and the soul is winnowed from the body.
158. Not with grain were sown the bloody banks of the Nemíga, but with the bones of Russian sons.
159. Prince Vsesláv sat in judgment over his people, apportioned cities to the princes, but himself raced a wolf in the night, and by cockcrow reached from Kíev to Tmútorokan, and as a wolf crossed the path of great Khors.
160. When they rang the bell in the church of St. Sophia for matins, early in the morning at Pólotsk, he heard the ringing in Kíev.
161. Though his cunning soul could pass into another body, yet he often suffered woe.
162. Thus wise Boyán of old has justly said:
163. “Neither the cunning, nor the agile, nor the swift bird can escape the judgment of the Lord!”
164. Oh, the Russian land must groan as it recalls the former days and the ancient princes!
165. It was not possible to nail Vladímir to the hills of Kíev:
166. now there are standards of Rúrik, and others of David.
167. –
168. Yaroslávna’s voice is heard; like a cuckoo in a lonely spot she calls plaintively in the morning:
169. “I will fly,” she says, “like a cuckoo along the Danube,
170. will wet my beaver sleeve in the river Kayála,
171. will wipe off the Prince’s bloody wounds on his manly body!”
172. Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying:
173. “O wind, mighty wind! Why, master, do you blow so strong?
174. Why do you on your light wings carry the Khan’s arrows against the warriors of my beloved one?
175. Is it not enough for you to blow on high below the clouds, rocking the ships on the blue sea?
176. Why, master, have you dispersed my happiness over the grass of the steppe?”
177. Yaroslávna weeps in the morning at Putívl town on the wall, saying:
178. “O famous Dnieper, you have pierced the rocky mountains across the country of the Pólovtses!
179. You have rocked on your waves the boats of Svyatosláv as far as the army of Kobák.
180. Fondly bring to me, master, my sweetheart, that I may not in the morning send tears after him out to sea.”
181. Yaroslávna weeps in the morning Putívl town on the wall, saying:
182. ‘‘Bright, three times bright sun, you give warmth and joy to all!
183. Why, master, have you thrust your burning beams on the warriors of my beloved one? Why have you in the waterless plain dried up their bows, and sealed their quivers in sorrow?”
184. The sea is agitated at midnight: mists are borne in the darkness. God shows to Ígor a way out of the land of the Pólovtses into the country of Russia to his father’s golden throne.
185. The evening twilight has gone out Ígor sleeps; Ígor is awake: Ígor in his thought measures the plains from the great Don to the small Donéts.
186. His steed is ready at midnight. Ovlúr whistles beyond the river, gives a sign to the Prince, — Prince Ígor will be no more!
187. The earth resounded, the grass rustled, the Pólovts tents trembled.
188. But Ígor raced like an ermine in the reeds, like a white duck over the water;
189. he jumped on a swift steed, dismounted as a light-footed wolf,
190. and hastened to the plain of the Donéts; and as a falcon flew through the mist, killing geese and swans for his breakfast and dinner and supper.
191. When Ígor flew as a falcon, Ovlúr raced as a wolf, shaking off the cold dew, for they had worn out their swift steeds.
192. The Donéts spoke:
193. “Prince Ígor, great is your honour, and the grief to Konchák, and joy to the Russian land!”
194. Ígor spoke:
195. “O Donéts, great is your honour, having rocked the Prince on your wave, having spread out for him the green grass on your silver banks, having cloaked him with warm mists under green trees.
196. You have guarded him as a duck on the water, as a gull on the waves, as a mallard in the air.
197. Not thus the river Stúgna: though having a scanty stream, it has swallowed other brooks, and has spread the floods over the bushes. To the young Prince Rostisláv the Dnieper has dosed its dark banks.
198. Rostisláv’s mother weeps for the young Prince.
199. The flowers faded in their sorrow, and the trees bent in anguish to the ground.”
200. It is not magpies that are in a flutter: Gza and Konchák ride in Ígor’s track.
201. Then the raven did not croak, the jackdaws were silent, the magpies did not chatter,
202. only leaped from branch to branch. The woodpeckers indicated the road to the river by their pecking; the nightingales announced the day by their merry song.
203. Said Gza to Konchák:
204. “Since the falcon is flying to his nest, let us shoot the fledgling with our golden darts.”
205. Said Konchák to Gza:
206. “Since the falcon is flying to his nest, let us enmesh the fledgling with a fair maiden!”
207. And Gza spoke to Konchák:
208. “If we enmesh him with a fair maiden, we shall have neither the young falcon, nor the fair maiden, and the birds will attack us in the Pólovts plain.”
209. Boyán has said:
210. “Hard it is for you, O head, to be without your shoulders; ill it is for you, O body, to be without a head.” Even so is the Russian land without Ígor.
211. The sun shines in the heaven, – Prince Ígor in the land of Russia!
212. Maidens sing at the Danube: their voices are carried over the sea to Kíev.
213. Ígor rides over the Boríchev, to the church of the Holy Virgin of Pirogóshch.
214. The country is happy, the towns rejoice;
215. they sing songs to the elder princes, and then to the younger.
216. Let us sing the glory of Ígor Svyatoslávich, of Grim Aurochs Vsévolod, Vladímir Ígorevich!
217. Hail, princes and druzhína, who battle for the Christians against the pagan host!
218. Glory to the princes and the druzhína! Amen!

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Орехов Б. В. Параллельный корпус переводов «Слова о полку Игореве»: итоги и перспективы // Национальный корпус русского языка: 2006—2008. Новые результаты и перспективы. — СПб.: Нестор-История, 2009. — С. 462—473.