Thyrikion
New member
Καλησπέρα,
προσπαθώ να μεταφράσω το παρακάτω ποίημα του Sir Henry Newbolt
Vitaï Lampada
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks,
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
This is the word that year by year
While in her place the School is set
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind --
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
Δυστυχώς το μόνο που έχω καταφέρει είναι μια μέτρια μετάφραση των τριών πρώτων στίχων της δεύτερης στροφής
Της ερήμου η άμμος κόκκινη, κόκκινη βάφτηκε
κόκκινη απ' το αίμα του τετραγώνου που διασπάστηκε
το μυδράλιο μπλόκαρε κι ο συνταγματάρχης νεκρός
και το σύνταγμα τύφλωσαν η σκόνη κι ο καπνός
μπορεί κανείς να με βοηθήσει;
[ευχαρίστως να συζητήσουμε ό,τι θέλετε επ αυτού]
προσπαθώ να μεταφράσω το παρακάτω ποίημα του Sir Henry Newbolt
Vitaï Lampada
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks,
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
This is the word that year by year
While in her place the School is set
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind --
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"
Δυστυχώς το μόνο που έχω καταφέρει είναι μια μέτρια μετάφραση των τριών πρώτων στίχων της δεύτερης στροφής
Της ερήμου η άμμος κόκκινη, κόκκινη βάφτηκε
κόκκινη απ' το αίμα του τετραγώνου που διασπάστηκε
το μυδράλιο μπλόκαρε κι ο συνταγματάρχης νεκρός
και το σύνταγμα τύφλωσαν η σκόνη κι ο καπνός
μπορεί κανείς να με βοηθήσει;
[ευχαρίστως να συζητήσουμε ό,τι θέλετε επ αυτού]