Сергей Есенин «Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ!..» на английском языке
* * *
Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ!
Потому что я с севера, что ли,
Я готов рассказать тебе поле,
Про волнистую рожь при луне.
Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ.
Потому что я с севера, что ли,
Что луна там огромней в сто раз,
Как бы ни был красив Шираз,
Он не лучше рязанских раздолий.
Потому что я с севера, что ли?
Я готов рассказать тебе поле,
Эти волосы взял я у ржи,
Если хочешь, на палец вяжи —
Я нисколько не чувствую боли.
Я готов рассказать тебе поле.
Про волнистую рожь при луне
По кудрям ты моим догадайся.
Дорогая, шути, улыбайся,
Не буди только память во мне
Про волнистую рожь при луне.
Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ!
Там, на севере, девушка тоже,
На тебя она страшно похожа,
Может, думает обо мне…
Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ!
1924
Сергей Есенин (1895-1925)
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Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet!
You will know because I am Nordic;
I can tell you a meadow, most scenic,
Moonlit rye waves one cannot forget.
Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet,
You will know because I am Nordic;
So bright shines the moon out there
That it may outglow any glare
Of Shiraz blazing forth from its tunic.
You will know because I am Nordic;
I can tell you a meadow, most scenic,
For my hair was gifted from rye,
Twixt your fingers you may intertwine —
I don’t feel any pain, any heartache.
I can tell you a meadow, most scenic.
Moonlit rye waves, one cannot forget,
Look so much like my curly hair, darling.
Oh, my love, please keep joking and smiling,
But don’t let me think of the silhouette
Of the rye waves, one cannot forget.
Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet!
There, up north, lives a maiden who also
Does resemble you terribly close,
May be now she’s thinking of me…
Shaganet, o my love, Shaganet.
Sergei Yesenin
Translated by Maya Jouravel
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Shaganeh, my divine Shaganeh!
It’s the North, I suppose, that inspires me,
And to talk of our fields never tires me,
Of the rye where the moon shadows play.
Shaganeh, my divine Shaganeh!
It’s the North, I suppose, that inspires me.
Can your moon with our huge moon compare?.
Be Shiraz city ever so fair,
It’s Ryazan’s rolling plains that delight me,
It’s the North, I suppose, that inspires me.
And to talk of our fields never tires me,
And I took my fair locks from the rye.
Take a lock round your finger to tie —
No ruffling will pain or surprise me,
And to talk of our fields never tires me.
Of the rye where the moon shadows play
In my curls you will find a suggestion.
O my darling, keep smiling and jesting,
Only never remind me, I pray,
Of the rye where the moon shadows play.
Shaganeh, my divine Shaganeh!
In the North is a girl who is waiting
And your likeness to her is amazing,
And it may be she murmurs my name…
Shaganeh, my divine Shaganeh.
Sergei Yesenin
Translated by Peter Tempest
* * *
Shagane, dear my, Shagane!
It’s because I’m from North, isn’t it,
I am ready to tell you a field,
Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there.
Shagane, dear my, Shagane.
It’s because I’m from North, isn’t it,
Where the Moon has enormous size,
And despite all the charm of Shiraz,
Ryazan spaces are better a bit.
It’s because I’m from North, isn’t it.
I am ready to tell you a field,
Curly hair I got from a rye,
If you like, reel on finger in round —
There is no pain I actually feel.
I am ready to tell you a field.
Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there,
See in waves of my hair. Oh darling,
Just make jokes, be so funny and smiling,
That I wouldn’t remember again
Wavy rye, when the Moon shining there.
Shagane, dear my, Shagane!
Far away on the North is a girl,
She is similar to you with all,
And I wonder if she thinks of me…
Shagane, dear my, Shagane.
Sergei Yesenin
Translated by Anastasia Aleinikova
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Сергей Есенин «Шаганэ ты моя, Шаганэ!..» на английском языке — Комментариев нет
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