Сопоставительная лингвистика. Кашкин В.Б. - 74 стр.

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74
God grant another may yet offer you.
Перевод: Babette Deutsch
I loved you, and that love, to die refusing,
May still – who knows! – be smouldering in my breast.
Pray be not pained – believe me, of my choosing
I’d never have you troubled or distressed.
I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly,
With shy yet fervent tenderness aglow;
Mine was a jealous passion and unruly…
May God grant that another will love you so!
Перевод: Irina Zheleznova
I’ve loved you so, and may just love you still;
For in my soul love isn't yet extinguished.
But let this give you not one moment's spill:
I'd never want to cause you grief or anguish.
I’ve loved you hopelessly, and yet so dearly,
To shyness and to jealousy condemned.
So tenderly I’ve loved you, so sincerely,
God grant you may be so well loved again.
Перевод: Douglas Robison
5.5 Критика выбора переводческих решений
Перед переводчиками Э. Берджесса (Anthony Burgess) стояла особо
трудная задача, ведь в оригинальном тексте романа «A
CLOCKWORK OR-
ANGE
» встречались русскоязычные вкрапления. Ситуация напоминала мно-
гократное отражение одним зеркалом своего отражения в другом…
'What’s it going to be then, eh?'
There was me, Your Humble Narrator, and my three droogs, that is Len, Rick,
and Bully, Bully being called Bully because of his bolshy big neck and very
gromky goloss which was just like some bolshy great bull bellowing
auuuuuuuuh. We were sitting in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks
what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. All
round were chellovecks well away on milk plus vellocet and synthemesc and
drencrom and other veshches which take you far far far away from this wicked
and real world into the land to viddy Bog And All His Holy Angels And Saints
in your left sabog with lights bursting and spurting all over your mozg. What we
were peeting was the old moloko with knives in it, as we used to say, to sharpen
you up and make you ready for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, but I've told you all
that before.
We were dressed in the heighth of fashion, which in those days was these very
wide trousers and a very loose black shiny leather like jerkin over an open-
necked shirt with a like scarf tucked in. At this time too it was the heighth of 
                                        74

      God grant another may yet offer you.
      Перевод: Babette Deutsch
      I loved you, and that love, to die refusing,
      May still – who knows! – be smouldering in my breast.
      Pray be not pained – believe me, of my choosing
      I’d never have you troubled or distressed.
      I loved you mutely, hopelessly and truly,
      With shy yet fervent tenderness aglow;
      Mine was a jealous passion and unruly…
      May God grant that another will love you so!
      Перевод: Irina Zheleznova
      I’ve loved you so, and may just love you still;
      For in my soul love isn't yet extinguished.
      But let this give you not one moment's spill:
      I'd never want to cause you grief or anguish.
      I’ve loved you hopelessly, and yet so dearly,
      To shyness and to jealousy condemned.
      So tenderly I’ve loved you, so sincerely,
      God grant you may be so well loved again.
      Перевод: Douglas Robison

                5.5   Критика выбора переводческих решений
     Перед переводчиками Э. Берджесса (Anthony Burgess) стояла особо
трудная задача, ведь в оригинальном тексте романа «A CLOCKWORK OR-
ANGE» встречались русскоязычные вкрапления. Ситуация напоминала мно-
гократное отражение одним зеркалом своего отражения в другом…
'What’s it going to be then, eh?'
There was me, Your Humble Narrator, and my three droogs, that is Len, Rick,
and Bully, Bully being called Bully because of his bolshy big neck and very
gromky goloss which was just like some bolshy great bull bellowing
auuuuuuuuh. We were sitting in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks
what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. All
round were chellovecks well away on milk plus vellocet and synthemesc and
drencrom and other veshches which take you far far far away from this wicked
and real world into the land to viddy Bog And All His Holy Angels And Saints
in your left sabog with lights bursting and spurting all over your mozg. What we
were peeting was the old moloko with knives in it, as we used to say, to sharpen
you up and make you ready for a bit of dirty twenty-to-one, but I've told you all
that before.
We were dressed in the heighth of fashion, which in those days was these very
wide trousers and a very loose black shiny leather like jerkin over an open-
necked shirt with a like scarf tucked in. At this time too it was the heighth of

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