Painting of A.K. Tolstoy, by Ilya Repin
Aleksei Konstantinovich Tolstoy
(1817-1875)
Баллада о камергере Деларю
Вонзил кинжал убийца нечестивый
В грудь Деларю.
Тот шляпу сняв, сказал ему учтиво:
«Благодарю».
Тут в левый бок ему кинжал ужасный
Злодей вогнал,
А Деларю сказал: «Какой прекрасный
У вас кинжал!»
Тогда злодей, к нему зашедши справа,
Его пронзил,
А Деларю с улыбкой лукавой
Лишь погрозил.
Истыкал тут злодей ему, пронзая,
Все телеса,
А Деларю: «Прошу на чашку чая
К нам в три часа».
Злодей пал ниц, слез проливши много,
Дрожал как лист,
А Деларю: «Ах, встаньте ради Бога!
Здесь пол нечист».
Но все у ног его в сердечной муке
Злодей рыдал,
А Деларю сказал, расставя руки:
«Не ожидал!
Возможно-ль? Как? Рыдать с такою силой?
По пустякам?
Я вам аренду выхлопочу, милый,
Аренду вам!
Через плечо дадут вам Станислава
Другим в пример.
Я дать совет властям имею право:
Я камергер.
Хотите дочь мою просватать, Дуню?
А я за то
Кредитными билетами отслюню
Вам тысяч сто;
А вот пока вам мой портрет на память,
Приязни в знак.
Я не успел его еще обрамить,
Примите так!»
Тут едок стал и даже горче перца
Злодея вид.
Добра на зло испорченное сердце –
Ах! – не простит.
Высокий дух посредственность тревожит,
Тьме страшен свет.
Портрет еще простить убийца может,
Аренду-ж – нет.
Зажглась в злодее зависти отрава
Так горячо,
Что, лишь надел мерзавец Станислава
Через плечо,
Он окунул со злобою безбожной
Кинжал свой в яд
И, к Деларю подкравшишь осторожно,
Хвать друга в зад!
Тот на пол лег, не в силах в страшных болях
На кресло сесть.
Меж тем злодей, отняв на антресолях
У Дуни честь,
Бежал в Тамбов, гле был, как губернатор,
Весьма любим.
Потом в Москве, как ревностный сенатор,
Был всеми чтим.
Потом он членом сделался совета
В короткий срок . . .
Какой пример для нас являет это,
Какой урок!
d
Literal
Translation
The
Ballad of Chamberlain Delarue
The impious murderer plunged his
dagger
Into
the chest of Delarue.
Doffing his hat, the latter said
to him politely,
“Thank
you.”
At this the villain thrust his
horrible dagger
Into
his left side,
But Delarue said, “What a fine
Dagger
you have there!”
Then the villain, coming at him
from the right,
Pierced
him through,
But Delarue, with a sly grin,
Just
wagged a finger at him.
At this the villain stabbed him
here and there,
All
over his body,
And Delarue said: “You’re invited
to
A
cup of tea with us at three.”
The rogue fell prostrate, shedding
many tears,
He
trembled like a leaf.
Said Delarue: “Oh, do get up, for
heaven’s sake!
The
floor is dirty here.”
But still the villain sobbed in
anguish
At
his feet,
And, spreading wide his hands,
Delarue exclaimed,
“This
I did not expect of you!
“What! Is it possible? To weep
with such force
Over
mere trifles?”
I’ll get you a raise in salary,
dear boy,
Arrange
a raise for you!”
You’ll have the Order of St.
Stanislaus hung over your shoulder,
Setting
an example for others.
I have the right to give advice to
the authorities,
For
I’m a chamberlain.
Would you like to seek the hand of
my daughter, Dunya, in marriage?
If
you should so wish,
I’ll fix you up with the cash
you’ll need,
Say,
a hundred thousand in banknotes;
Meanwhile, please accept my
portrait in memory of me,
A
token of our friendship.
I’ve not yet found time to frame
it;
Please
take it as it is!”
With this the bad guy got up, and
the look
On
his face was more bitter than pepper.
A heart depraved—alas!—cannot
forgive
Good
in return for evil.
Mediocrity is troubled by loftiness
of spirit,
Darkness
fears the light.
The killer, perhaps, might forgive
the proffered portrait,
But
the offer of a raise, no way.
The venom of envy flared up in the
villain
With
such heat,
That, no sooner had he hung the
Order of St. Stanislaus
Over his
shoulder,
Than he dipped with impious rancor
His
dagger in poison,
And, sneaking up to Delarue,
Stabbed
him in the backside!
In terrible pain, the latter lay
down on the floor,
Unable
to sit in his armchair.
Meanwhile, the villain violated
Dunya’s chastity
On
the entresol,
And fled to Tambov, where, serving
as governor,
He
was greatly loved.
Later, in Moscow, as a diligent
senator,
He
was esteemed by all.
After which, in short order, he
became
A
member of the State Council . . .
What an example he set for all of
us,
What
a lesson!
d
Literary
Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
The
Ballad of Chamberlain Delarue
The cutthroat plunged his dagger
dire
Deep
in the breast of Delarue.
The latter doffed his hat, said,
“Sire,
Most
humbly do I thank you.”
At this the villain drove the dagger
Into
his frail left side.
Calm Delarue declared with swagger,
“Your
blade’s honed sharp, I must confide.”
Then, coming at him from the
right,
The
rogue sliced into a rib.
Sly Delarue just smiled at the
sight,
Remained urbane
and glib.
The ne’er-do-well began to stab
At
bodily flesh with a one-two-three.
Delarue said, “Have tea with us, and
a cake of crab?
Come round at
three for a cup of tea.”
Awash in tears, the rogue fell
flat,
He quailed with
rancor and spleen.
Quoth Delarue,“For mercy’s sake,
please do get up;
The
floor is none too clean”
But still sobbed on the cad in his
rue,
Lay
prostrate on the floor.
Spread wide his hands kind Delarue,
“Such behavior
I’m prone to deplore!
“How can this be, these heartfelt
sobs,
And
all over matters so trivial?
Cheer up, my boy, I’ll help you
find jobs,
I’ll
get you a raise most convivial.
We’ll give you the Order of St.
Stanislaus,
No,
don’t even think to disdain it.
You’ll wear it most proudly, its
merits espouse,
I
have pull in court; I’ll arrange it.
My daughter named Dunya is eager
to wed;
Why
not seek her hand? She’s a prize.
If you’re short of cash for the
nuptials and bed,
I’ll
stake you the moolah; the limit’s the skies.
For now, please accept this fond
likeness of me,
I’ve
not found the time yet to frame it;
In token of our bond, which links
you and me,
Need
anything else? Well just name it.”
The ne’er-do-well got back up on
his feet,
And
the look on his face was ferocious.
For a heart full of spite must
make mushy mincemeat
Of good rendered
in turn for atrocious.
The lofty in spirit makes
commonplace quake,
For
darkness and foul fears the light;
Our cad forgave him the portrait, the
crab cake,
But
the job offer—no way, right?
Infused was the villain with envy
and spite,
Which
flared up in his breast.
He paused to put right, on his
shoulder bedight,
The Stanislaus
order, with heraldic crest,
Then, beaming with malice and
impious air,
His
dagger envenomed with hebenon vile,
He tiptoed, sneaked up on our Rue’s
savoir faire,
And
zapped him in heinie and piles!
In hideous pain on the floor
writhed poor Rue,
Unable
the ache to allay.
The villain, meantime, on the
couch, out of view,
With
Dunya the chaste had his way,
And fled for far-distant Tambov in
a trice,
Where
he became mayor, beloved of all,
Then later, in Moscow, quintessence
of nice,
He
served in the Senate, there all did enthrall.
Guess what happened next? Right.
He soon
In
State Council did honors accrue . . .
He set a high bar, did this
erstwhile poltroon;
Let
his life be a lesson for you!
A Note on How I Translate Russian Poetry
This method applies not only to the poem by A.K. Tolstoy, translated above, but also to all the other Russian poetry that I have translated on this blog.
The first translation above is literal, a pony, which makes no attempt at literary effect. It tries to capture, to the extent that this is possible, the exact meaning of the original Russian words in English. Of course, totally literal translation is not possible, since words in one language often have no exact equivalents in a different language.
The second translation, which I call a "literary translation/adaptation," is an attempt to create a real poem in the target language, English, while taking some liberties with the original text in Russian. The adaptation, in a sense, is truer to the original poem than the literal translation, since it strives to keep the gist/idea of the original and strives, like the original (which is rhymed and metered), to be a real poem.
U.R. Bowie
A.K. Tolstoy as a Young Man, Painting by Karl Brullov
