wtorek, 8 grudnia 2009

wiersz Anny Achmatowej po angielsku "Pieśń ostatniego spotkania*

"Song of last meeting"

Helplessly as the heart is contracted,
A walk was still light and soft,
But for right hand I imposed
Glove for my left hand.

Seemed to be: so many degrees,
But I knew that the three, for sure!
Among the clones of the rustling of autumn ...
He asked: "Oh, die with me!

Kid, took me strength
The fate of volatile and irrational. "
Retorted: "Oh, dear, dear,
Just me! And you die ... "

This is the song of the last meeting.
I looked at a house in a dark shade.
In bedroom is only light
Neutral candle flame.

Anna Achmatowa

środa, 2 września 2009

wiersz Konstantego Idefonsa Gałczyńskiego po angielsku "Pieśń o ojczyźnie"

This poem like so much my grandfather and i dedicate this poem for my grandfather

A song about the homeland

You are my homeland, as well as high flame ,
as the day on which the people shone;
skimming the ocean, the mountain streams,
the sky - a thousand is, my homeland.

Thousand art the hot metal, mining heroism,
work and happy dance
and silver from the village of electric lamps,
and children going to school.

This is your rays fall on the road,
your voice is heard at night.
Who goes through life with the name of the homeland,
This goes in the victory and the sun.

Thousand bridges of Wrocław and the spring in Szczecin,
and silver Warsaw doves.
We pick you up, my homeland, in their praise songs
and in the fight, and in their daily work.

Our day is as a window wide open
Vistula and the Oder and Neisse.
Chopin's homeland, my homeland Walter,
brave, folk homeland.

Konstanty Idefons Gałczyński

poniedziałek, 20 lipca 2009

wiersz Kazimierza Przerwy - Tetmajera po angielsku " A Kiedy Będziesz Moją Żoną"

And When You Be My Wife....

And when you are my wife ...
Beloved, betrothed
Then we open the garden,
Garden of bright and full of dawn.

Call us on April orchards,
Fragrant wine will hail us,
And beautiful roses and morning glory
Will kiss your hair.

Go quietly, as to think
In the mist of golden rays,
Go slowly avenues,
Between the trees, silent, alone.

Branches will droop toward us,
Narcissus creep silver perch,
I smell the flower of white lime
By loving our heads.

You dress in blue flowers,
Forget-me-nots and cornflowers,
You trim the young fern
And thy beauty lights up World

Go quietly, as to think
The golden rays in the mist,
Go in a garden full of dawn
When we open the doors of love.

Kazimierz Przerwa - Tetmajer

wiersz Jana Kochanowskiego po angielsku "Na zdrowie"


Noble Health
You will not know
As a taste,
Until the break.
There, a man almost
See in Java
And he will say,
That's on health
Or better,
Neither the more costly;
For good stones
Even a young age
And the gift of beauty,
Suburbs high
Broad authority,
Are good, but --
When the health of the whole.
Where you do not have power,
I unpleasant world.
Dear Jawel
My poor house
Handed to you
Love you!

Jan Kochanowski

poniedziałek, 13 lipca 2009

wiersz Adama Mickiewicza po angielsku "Ruiny zamku w Bałajławie"

The ruins of the castle in Bałajławie

These locks, broken in the rubble without order
Grace and guard you, the ungrateful Crimea!
Today prostate on the mountains as a huge skull,
They live reptile or reptile of a man subject.
Enter the tower, looking for trace of coats of arms;
And the inscription is, there may be the name of the hero,
What was the terror troops, resides in oblivion,
Blame as leaf worm wine hail.

Here Greek within the walls of Athens chisel ornaments,
Hence, Italy Mongołom demanded that iron
I hum a song mekkański newcomer namaza.

Today, black vultures fly wing graves,
As in the city, which stands quite pestilence,
The ever of the bastions of blows banners of mourning.

Adam Mickiewicz

wiersz Jana Kochanowskiego po angielsku " O miłości"

About Love

Who is ahead love began to paint the child,
Maybe he truly admire each;
This saw is that people are almost without reason,
A major benefit of this when they lose on stupidity.
This same is not useful to the free arm feathers,
For variety there frequently; to anger, to a covenant.
Arrows mean that suddenly the human settlement,
And no wounds from onej not healthy leaves.
In me you live shots and the small idol,
But it probably all the feathers fall,
Because it is not possible to startle you anywhere from my heart
Neither will allow me any rest.
What a pleasure you have to live in the dry bones of my
Frogs do not have time to move his shot elsewhere?
It is better to his power under the dunces taste,
Because no longer me but only a shadow of my worrying,
What if you lose, so who will sing?
With my simple rhyme these are famous everywhere,
Which color is the face and black eye
Not so silent at the ladies, and walk nicely.

Jan Kochanowski

niedziela, 12 lipca 2009

wiersz Juliana Tuwima "Ty jesteś moją żoną, to we krwi mojej tłucze"

You're my wife, it breaks my blood

You're my wife, it breaks my blood
Panic, happiness, fear, joy and jump!
Wither and explosion, roar and hum triumph,
I gave the liquid in the cloud, and I press the dal pipe.

I think, and remember, and remember,
I pray and cry, and compresses the hands of people,
I laughs to himself, and he does not know what I do,
And the emotions I say, "I am with my wife, wife, wife ...

Blue-gold mine! Spring and Autumn!
You, every day for the first time they saw and loved!
Look, please, in my eyes, the same constant power,
This power, which throws in a humility to his knees!

Julian Tuwim