Afanasy Fet
(1820-1892)
(1820-1892)
ЛИХОРАДКА
— Няня, что-то
всё не сладко, —
Дай-ка сахар мне да ром.
Всё как будто лихорадка,
Точно холоден наш дом…
— Ах, родимый, Бог с тобою:
Подойти нельзя к печам!
При себе всегда закрою, —
Топим жарко, знаешь сам.
— Ты бы шторку опустила…
Дай-ка книгу… — Не хочу…
Ты намедни говорила,
Лихорадка… Я шучу!..
— Что за шутки! Спозаранок,
Уж поверь моим словам,
Сёстры, девять лихоманок,
Часто ходят по ночам.
Вишь, нелёгкая их носит
Сонных в губы целовать!
Всякой болести напросит,
И пойдёт тебя трепать.
— Верю, няня! Нет ли шубы?..
Хоть всего не помню сна, —
Целовала крепко в губы…
Лихорадка ли она?
1847
Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
The
Fever Fiends
--Nanny, dear, things taste so
sour;
Bring me sugar in some rum.
I feel all feverish and dour,
Our house is cold, and I’m all numb . . .
Bring me sugar in some rum.
I feel all feverish and dour,
Our house is cold, and I’m all numb . . .
--Oh, dear child, may God bless you;
Don’t get near stoves; oh no, do not!
I always keep my door pulled to,
You know we heat the house too hot.
Don’t get near stoves; oh no, do not!
I always keep my door pulled to,
You know we heat the house too hot.
--You should have put the curtain
down . . .
Give me a book . . . No, never mind . . .
Just now you said there’s ghouls around . . .
I was joking! . . . That’s ill-timed . . .
--Don’t tell jokes in morning
light!
Trust me when I speak of mayhem;
Evil sisters walk by night,
The fever fiends, there’s nine of them,
They’re sent by him, the evil one
To sleeping men; they kiss your lips!
He brings afflictions, fevers and
Now he’s sicced on you his imps.
Give me a book . . . No, never mind . . .
Just now you said there’s ghouls around . . .
I was joking! . . . That’s ill-timed . . .
Trust me when I speak of mayhem;
Evil sisters walk by night,
The fever fiends, there’s nine of them,
To sleeping men; they kiss your lips!
He brings afflictions, fevers and
Now he’s sicced on you his imps.
--I think you’re right! Bring some
hot tea.
The dream was fuzzy, but it seemed
She kissed me on the lips . . . woe’s me!
Could she have been a fever fiend?
The dream was fuzzy, but it seemed
She kissed me on the lips . . . woe’s me!
Could she have been a fever fiend?
!!!
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