sting_nettle (kodzujoro) wrote,

Мои переводы. Alan Silitoe. Creation.

God did not write.
He spoke.
He made.
His jackknife had a superblade –
He sliced the earth
And carved the water,
Made man and woman
By an act of slaughter.

He scattered polished diamonds
In the sky like dust
And gave the world a push to set it spinning.
What super-Deity got him beginning
Whispered in his ear on how to do it
Gave hints on what was to be done?

Don’t ask.
In his mouth he felt the sun
Spat it out because it burned;
From between his toes – the moon –
He could not walk so kicked it free.

His work was finished.
He put a river round his neck,
And vanished.

Бог не писал
Он рек.
Свой нож спокойно заточил.
Отрезал твердь
и воду отделил.
Создал людей,
устроив акт резни.
Рассыпал в небе словно пыль
Брильянтов горсть
И мирозданья колесо он закрутил.
Какой Сверх-Бог все это замутил,
Шепнув на ухо, как с чего начать,
И намекнув на средства и на план?


Во рту от солнца перегар
он ощутил - плевком отдал.
А под ногами - мяч-луну -

И пнул ее - нельзя пройти!
Работа кончена, и вот,
Шарфом из рек закутал рот,
И был таков.

Tags: переводы, стихи

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