Всем приветик! Это новый арт от меня с Узи. Вообще я очень удивилась когда мой прошлый пост с артом Эном и Узи набрал аж 60 лайков! И я очень рада, что такому количеству людей этот арт понравился. Поэтому я теперь буду выпускать арты и с дронами убийцами, а не только своих персонажей. Спасибо ещё раз всем! Всем пока и хорошего времени суток
Eng:
Hello everyone, this is my new ultrasound art. In general, I was very surprised when my last post with art N and Usi scored as many as 60 likes! And I am very glad that so many people liked this art. Therefore, now I will publish art with killer drones, and not just with my characters. Thanks again to everyone! Bye to everyone and have a good time of day
An English Translation of Wings (Крылья, 1906) by Mikhail Kuzmin
I'm a big fan of Maurice by E.M. Forster and The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde and as I was looking up other homoerotic literature from the period, I came across this quote:
"Wilde in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890) only hinted that his hero's inner corruption resulted from his suppression of his true nature; Gide did not dare to name the attraction of his hero in The Immoralist (1902); Proust felt impelled to engage in all manner of subterfuge, and Forster wrote Maurice for the desk drawer."
by John E. Malmstad in relation to the novella Wings by Russian author Mikhail Kuzmin. One of, if not the first, works of literature focussed on (male) homosexuality explicitly and positively came out of stereotypically repressive Tsarist Russia - how could I not be intrigued? I immediately decided that I should make it my next translation project.
At the outset I was not familiar with any previous translations, though since finishing a rough draft, I found the Hesperus Modern Voices edition, which I do recommend for its introduction and extensive footnotes by Hugh Aplin; however, I found that translation to be quite wonky in a lot of places and I hope mine clears up at least a little bit of the confusion some readers may have had at certain points. That said, as an amateur, I do not mean to disparage a professional translation and I recognise my own work still has its own passages I'm not totally satisfied with; Kuzmin's style in this book (I'm admittedly not very familiar with his other work) is difficult in that, despite the layers upon layers of high-brow references and ornamentations, its texture, it is quite laconic in its actual structure; the novella is composed of vignettes, presented on their own, without clear immediate relation to one another, or much, if any, scene-setting. It is disorienting, especially at first, and certainly unexpected given the forms of narrative typically encountered in the era, but, as others have pointed out, it has its similarities to cinema: Kuzmin's prose is like a camera pointed at various objects, leaving one to draw their own conclusions on the meaning based both on the image and the contrast created by the cuts between images, while the camera does not have a voice of its own to explain its intent in the same way an author can.
The same principle of recording detail whilst leaving a large part of the context implied applies to the dialogue as well - the main difficulty I found was in making sense out of the many disjointed phrases, often with multiple possible meanings, seperated from an obvious preceding or following context found throughout that represent several of the conversations. I apologise if my rendering of the dialogue is difficult to read or doesn't flow well, but at the same time, I believe this disorienting effect is intended at least in part by the original author.
The novella is divided into three parts, which I shall post seperately:
Скажу так, книга что меня заинтересовала по началу #крылья автор Кристина Старк. Задумка неплоха, что вот, испытывая всплеск адреналина наша гг может "вылететь" Из своего тела и оказаться в чужом.
Но... Мне не хватает раскрытости и больше напоминает плохо прописанный фф с гг немного эгоисткой в паре моментов.
Я расстроена... Цианид был лучше прописан и окончен. Да, темы и идеи разные, но #крылья плохо прописаны в отличии от того. Да, да, повторяюсь.
Я Гаргамель
Всего лишь старый чародей
Инквизиция грозила сотни раз
но что то спасало всякий раз
Может быть характер у меня такой?
Но не может быть мой нрав другой
Вижу цель свою
Я за ней бегу
Она мечта моя
И пусть твердят все что неудачник я
Но для себя герой
И верю я что звездный час придёт
И все поймут что ошибались
Пока в глазах огонь горит
Упрямо к цели я иду
Сквозь года, десятилетия
И не погаснет искра надежды никогда
пока жив я
Волшебник не по крови я
Но тайна эта умрет со мною
О происхождении неблагородном сей секрет…
Судьба крылья обрывала мне не раз
Но их заново смастерю я как Дедал
Ещё настанет день
Когда на конференцию магов я на крыльях прилечу
И в очах их удивление, восхищения
Увижу я
И сбудется мечта моя
когда камень философский я при них создам…
Ах как прекрасны сии мечты!
Вот только смурфов поймаю
Но каждый раз от меня убегают
Мне бы деревню их найти
В неё не один раз я попадал
Но словно из за магии неведанной
Расположение забывал
Но мечту эту несбыточную не забывал
Пока огонь в глазах горит
Упрямо к цели я иду
Сквозь года, десятилетия
и не погаснет искра надежды никогда
пока жив я…
Дата написания: 23.08.2023г.
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note: Like my previous poems, I translate this one so that those of my subscribers who cannot read the original can read it. As in my previous poems, the rhyme is lame because of the translation. Therefore, do not judge strictly.
Poem "While the fire in the eyes burns"
I am Gargamel
Just an old wizard
The Inquisition threatened hundreds of times
but something saved me every time
Could it be my character?
But my temper cannot be different
I see my goal
I run after her
She is my dream
And let everyone say that I'm a loser
But for himself a hero
And I believe that the finest hour will come
And everyone will understand that they were wrong
While the fire burns in the eyes
Stubbornly towards the goal I go
Through the years, decades
And the spark of hope will never go out
while I'm alive
I'm not a wizard by blood
But this secret will die with me
About the origin of this ignoble this secret
Fate cut off my wings more than once
But I will make them again like Daedalus
Another day will come
When I fly to a conference of magicians on wings
And in their eyes surprise, admiration
I will see
And my dream will come true
when I create the Philosopher's Stone…
Oh, how beautiful these dreams!
I just catch the smurfs
But every time they run away from me
I would like to find a village
I have been there many times.
But as if by magic unknown
Location forgot
But I haven't forgotten this pipe dream
While the fire in the eyes burns
Stubbornly towards the goal I go
Through the years, decades
and the spark of hope will never go out
while I'm alive…