Макбет, акт V, сцена 5

[aptsvet]

Написать вот так - и застрелиться, потому что это уже на пределе возможного.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Перевести вот так - и застрелиться от позора. А за "оказывается" воскреснуть и застрелиться повторно.

Мы дни за днями шепчем: "Завтра, завтра"
Так тихими шагами жизнь ползет
К последней недописанной странице.
Оказывается, что все "вчера"
Нам сзади освещали путь к могиле.
Конец, конец, огарок догорел!
Жизнь - только тень, она - актер на сцене.
Сыграл свой час, побегал, пошумел -
И был таков. Жизнь - сказка в пересказе
Глупца. Она полна трескучих слов
И ничего не значит.

ПыСы: Хорошо еще, что название романа Фолкнера не перевели как "Трескучие слова" - красивенько бы вышло.

Comments

Re: thank you for an incisive lesson

[aptsvet.livejournal.com]

I. e., I do not see Catullus plotting the life-story of Lesbia's sparrow from birth to death. It's just words.

everything that rises must converge

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

    It’s words standing for things, aliquid stat pro aliquo. Surely you need not be reminded of the phallic connotations in modern Italian passero and passera being plausibly retrojected onto Catullus’ passer at 2 and 3, as measured by Martial against passerem Catulli at 11.6.16?

Re: everything that rises must converge

[aptsvet.livejournal.com]

Well, indeed I needed that reminder, and you are sending me back to my Martial. But Freud would argue that Catullus did not have to weigh the matter consciously, and that much authority I yield to him.

Thanks a lot for the line-up, it helped me to wrap up the whole story quite tidily.

narsty by design

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

    I protest against your Catullean contumely. There is no room for the slightest of parapraxes in matters oragenital: one slip of the tongue, and you are in deep shit. Additionally, see The Psychopathology of Everyday Life, Chapter XII, constraining these shortcomings in our psychical functioning to momentary and temporary disturbances. In other words, let us show some respect for our elders. “On n’est jamais excusable d’être méchant, mais il y a quelque mérite à savoir qu’on l’est ; et le plus irréparable des vices est de faire le mal par bêtise.”

Re: everything that rises must converge

[aptsvet.livejournal.com]

Well, I've looked at Hexter's paper. I guess the battle is yours, but not the war.

hexter is a fuckwit

[larvatus.livejournal.com]

    Nonetheless, the records of our sparrows’ receptions speak for themselves. Or so we hope.