Наши авторы в переводах:
Дан Маркович Dan Markovitch Translated by Una Devlet
Talk to me
Перевод на английский.
Переводчик: Уна Девлет. Живет в Новой Зеландии, филолог, переводит русскую поэзию на французский и английский языки.
On a bus I'm going. It's bright down-town but very few people can be seen. The shops are already closed and there aren't very many places to go for a walk. I am riding. Enormous bulks of dark buildings... then black narrower streets with lower houses go. Away I'm sailing, my boat is small. I used to like it all: "There... far ahead..." Now I don't care. A narrow hole man digs. A mistake has been hanging over our lives. Everyone seems to have lived for something. Well, everyone... he who always looks for excuses... A street, winter, darkness, dull window-panes, shadows behind them... One is eating and drinking, another is sleeping, another is shouting at the children... I keep driving. At first I thought over the way to escape darkness... There had to be some light over there ahead... The bus jerks, something has clattered under the wheels. I see rails and a switch tower with a yellowish light in it... Halt! Who's there? Who?.. Away it has floated. The darkness again... I am driving. I thought there were bright towns... the sky... and the only thing I had needed was to escape from here. No, blackness and darkness are inside me.
There is a man in the bus. We are two. An old man, his face is yellow:
- Speak to me...
I don't want to speak to him.
- I am scared...
I am scared too, but we have nothing to speak of... nothing.
- ...I live with my wife... she looks after the house... sleeps at night... I lie in bed. Am I thinking?.. No, the waves are rocking me... the awe is rocking me... What will happen to her if I die... We vanish away into the dark. Was it always this way? We did have faith... flied to light... You are young, get out of here, g-e-t o-u-t... everything is poisoned here... I'd like to believe in Doomsday. Everyone will be brought to book... However, I don't believe in it either...
- Why... You can't think so, old chap...
I bend over... he is already asleep. No, no, no! I won't go as far as the next stop... let me get off... The lights, town, voices, songs, laughter, small adventures and devilry, even some success, proud are all behind long ago... We have no ground under our feet. There are no excuses... Oh, don't... Let it be a dream! I am feeling bright light on my face; someone is patting my shoulder. You ticket, sir, please! Eh! How well! Yes, certainly, the ticket. Here it is, h-e-r-e... And what about the old man? His face is white... he is smiling...
- Are you feeling well? But I am scared. Talk to me...
© Дан Маркович, 1991-2026.
© Una Devlet, перевод, 2002-2026.
© Сетевая Словесность, 2002-2026.
