Во славу Святого Иеронима, выкладываю несколько своих переложений (я не знаю, можно ли назвать переводом неточное воспроизведение текста - а точного в стихах не получается...) на английский известных фэндомских песен.

Вначале ссылка на оригинал, после английский текст, в конце - видео, чтобы было понятно, как именно английский вариант ложится на мелодию.



Оригинал

WINES OF THE FALL

Heavy autumn drenches rusty willow trees…
Those opaque adventures drained me to the lees;
Angel weeps a droplet, ripple goes through the goblet.
Blessing’s over, now he flees...

Brittle crusty pages,
Leather cover marred.
Time to be courageous –
Quill has done its part,
Now its pace has slackened.
Name is soundly blackened.
Candle’s out, the wick has charred.

I drink to you, my enemies, your triumph is quite nigh
Don’t look awry
I leave no relics to decry.
The deal at which I soundly clutch
Will please you much: my heart’s becoming steadfast.


Piercing horseshoe-clatter drives away the night,
Smiths take off the fetter, we can start the rite,
Mocked by wayward raven, I will fling to heaven
Sambenito flaming bright.

I drink to you, my allies, to our solemn faithful bond,
That I abscond
I cannot carry it beyond
The deal that I no longer fear
Will please you dear: my heart’s becoming solid.


Tarnished ring keeps sliding like a loosened chain,
Hooded knight’s abiding in the falling rain.
Time to be courageous: fragile hearts and pledges
Hit the stone and break in twain.

I’ll share this noble goblet with October, my old friend,
Its rainy scent –
A balm to calm, it’s meant to mend.
It would perpetually seal
The fairest deal: a change of heart for better…





***



Оригинал


LULLABY

Hush-a-bye, you are tired, try to sleep while you may,
In a couple of hours it will dawn,
We will need all our strength for the upcoming day,
But for now let the worries be gone.
Wrap yourself in the cloak: it is chilly in here,
Tarnished gleam of the moonlight is cold,
Close your eyes, step away from the pain and the fear,
Hush-a-buy, let the story unfold.

There’s a somnolent river where reeds softly rustle,
There’s a lily that opens its crown,
Clouds are soaking in sunset and building their castle,
And the road climbs the hill and runs down.

Horses stray through the flowery meadows at ease,
Frisky swallows play chase all day long,
And the herbs fill the air, and a gust of a breeze
Brings a trace of a faraway song.

For the first time I wish I were truly a mage:
I could shapeshift you into a lark,
You’d be safe from the foes, you’d fly out if this cage –
Through the bars and then into the dark…

But my knowledge and powers are limited here,
And indeed not strong as they seem,
Moon shines just like a nightlight, sleep soundly, my dear,
Hush-a-buy, while I weave you a dream.

The reflections of gold autumn stars in the lake
And the shimmer of glowworms at night,
And the sparks from dew drops and hoarfrost will flake
And be spliced into soft soothing light…

But the dawn’s creeping in like a snake through the grass,
Golden angel is raising his cup,
Moon is gone, stars are out, and the key scrapes the brass…
Wake up, dear. They came for us. Wake up.






***



Оригинал

BELLS OF THE DEATH

It’s a blessed merry life for one who eats, and drinks, and never breaks loose!
Master hangman softly hums a tune; the hanged dances in his tight noose.
If you’ve seen a whole lot think ere you let it slip;
If you think you know it all than you better don’t quip
And rejoice, it’s not your time tonight to hear, yes, to hear through your sleep

The silver bells of death softly tinkling, the silver of death…


Hey, come over, merry folk, for there’s stuff to gape at on the fairground:
Fair witch is to be burned at stake, and you can see her lying there, bound.
Yes, the judge had condemned her, denying the plea,
And from where you all sit you shall be able to see,
And ya'all soon will hear, ye soon will hear them bursting into a glee:

The silver bells’ of death clanging clamor; the silver of death…


Hey there, why so quiet, why so serious, come, here’s more wine;
Master hangman cares little; the fire cares not, so why should we whine?
Witches, heretics, and scribes are worth the same petty dime,
Royal hounds shall pick them out whatever soil they begrime
And the first thing at dawn I promise you that they will hear the chime…

The silver bells of death rhyming-chiming, the silver of death…


Hey, my friend why so pale, don’t you fret, hey, wait, you don’t have to leave
Hey come back, I’m just a jester, I was hoping for some food for the eve,
And the king knows better, and God knows best
And there will be a day when they come put me to rest
Than I shall have the best accompaniment one might ever have for a jest:

The silver bells of death moaning-groaning, the silver of death…





За помощь в создании видео отдельное и огромное спасибо не имеющему Журнала хорошему человеку по имени Махач, лучшему из известных мне звукооператоров.