про литературу (англоязычное)

[@nny]

Френд lerakuzeeva напомнила мне про статью о трудностях перевода и гендерной принадлежности персонажей детской литературы.
Статья, кто еще не читал,вот (настоятельно рекомендую, очень интересно), а я после нее пошла читать Киплинга в оригинале.

Блин, я поняла, за что этому человеку дали нобелевку по литературе. При всех сложностях, которыми меня щедро одарила «Книга джунглей», от массы незнакомых слов до вывернутой наизнанку грамматики, она льет всю гамму ощущений прямо в мозг: картинка, запахи, звуки, интонации, даже внутреннее состояние персонажей. Я не понимаю, как он это делает. Если забыть о грамматике, написано все очень просто: он пошел, он сказал, он побежал как никогда в жизни не бегал… Но это та простота, которая не имеет ничего общего с примитивностью. Оно так и должно быть: большинство персонажей – животные, они не склонны к рефлексии и душевным метаниям в духе Достоевского. Думаю, дело в точности этих простых слов.

Последняя история, «The spring running», в переводе вообще ни о чем. А как в ней на самом деле описана гормональная буря взрослеющего мальчика – это одно из самых потрясающих описаний чего бы то ни было, которые я читала.
Вот это в переводе отсутствует как класс:

много букв и все нерусские

The spring hum broke out for a minute, and was silent, but all the Jungle Folk seemed to be giving tongue at once. All except Mowgli.
"I have eaten good food," he said to himself. "I have drunk good water. ... But my stomach is heavy, and I have given very bad talk to Bagheera and others, people of the Jungle and my people. Now, too, I am hot and now I am cold, and now I am neither hot nor cold, but angry with that which I cannot see. Huhu! It is time to make a running!
…
So he ran, sometimes shouting, sometimes singing to himself, the happiest thing in all the Jungle that night, till the smell of the flowers warned him that he was near the marshes, and those lay far beyond his farthest hunting-grounds.
…
All his unhappiness seemed to have been left behind in his own Jungle, and he was just beginning a full-throat song when it came back again - ten times worse than before.
This time Mowgli was frightened. "It is here also!" he said half aloud. "It has followed me," and he looked over his shoulder to see whether the It were not standing behind him. "There is no one here." The night noises of the marsh went on, but never a bird or beast spoke to him, and the new feeling of misery grew.
"I have surely eaten poison," he said in an awe-stricken voice. "It must be that carelessly I have eaten poison, and my strength is going from me. I was afraid - and yet it was not I that was afraid - Mowgli was afraid when the two wolves fought. Akela, or even Phao, would have silenced them; yet Mowgli was afraid. That is true sign I have eaten poison... But what do they care in the Jungle? They sing and howl and fight, and run in companies under the moon, and I - Hai-mai! - I am dying in the marshes, of that poison which I have eaten." He was so sorry for himself that he nearly wept. "And after," he went on, "they will find me lying in the black water. Nay, I will go back to my own Jungle, and I will die upon the Council Rock, and Bagheera, whom I love, if he is not screaming in the valley - Bagheera, perhaps, may watch by what is left for a little, lest Chil use me as he used Akela."
A large, warm tear splashed down on his knee, and, miserable as he was, Mowgli felt happy that he was so miserable, if you can understand that upside-down sort of happiness.

Конец истории вообще практически до слез меня довел. По-русски оно тоже хорошо, но не то. В частности, совершенно непонятно, что уводит его из Джунглей. А в оригинале мы имеем последние слова Акелы: "Mowgli will drive Mowgli", и это внутреннее противоречие, несвойственное животным, отличает Маугли как Человека.
Вот просто ни отнять ни прибавить нечего.

еще буквы

"But Bagheera and the Bull that bought me," said Mowgli. "I would not -"
His words were cut short by a roar and a crash in the thicket below, and Bagheera, light, strong, and terrible as always, stood before him.
"Therefore," he said, stretching out a dripping right paw, "I did not come. It was a long hunt, but he lies dead in the bushes now - a bull in his second year - the Bull that frees thee, Little Brother. All debts are paid now. For the rest, my word is Baloo's word." He licked Mowgli's foot. "Remember, Bagheera loved thee," he cried, and bounded away. At the foot of the hill he cried again long and loud, "Good hunting on a new trail, Master of the Jungle! Remember, Bagheera loved thee."
"Thou hast heard," said Baloo. "There is no more. Go now; but first come to me. O wise Little Frog, come to me!"
"It is hard to cast the skin," said Kaa as Mowgli sobbed and sobbed, with his head on the blind bear's side and his arms round his neck, while Baloo tried feebly to lick his feet.
"The stars are thin," said Gray Brother, snuffing at the dawn wind. "Where shall we lair to-day? for from now, we follow new trails."
And this is the last of the Mowgli stories.

А еще я поняла, что наш мульт очень близок по духу к оригиналу. Такие же лаконичные линии, такой же лаконичный язык. Правда, Багира… который на самом деле самец… но это уже совсем другая история (смотри ссылку на статью в начале)

@темы: мнение, сцылко, впечатления