Prevodimo hrvatske pisce

Već niz godina gimnazijalci prevode hrvatske pisce na strane jezike razvijajući tako osjećaj za nijansu, razumijevajući slojeve pohranjene u riječima i obraćajući pozornost na jedinstvo ritma, smisla i zvuka koje čini jezičnu umjetninu. Naš online magazin omogućuje da vam pokažemo koliko su u tome uspješni. Prijevode na engleski, radove svojih učenika, poslao nam je profesor Miodrag Maričić

 Dobriša Cesarić: Zidari

Onoga dana dogradismo krov,

Visok i pristao.

Bila je kiša i polila krov

On je blistao.

 

Oprasmo ruke. Sjedosmo ručat,

A pri objedu

Pogledasmo često na blistavi krov –

Na našu pobjedu.

 

Dobriša Cesarić: Bricklayers

That day we built the roof,

high and stately.

It rained and mositened the roof

It was shinning.

 

We washed our hands. We sat down for lunch,

And during lunch

We often looked at the shiny roof –

at our victory.

 

Fran Galović: Plavo nebo

Na prislonjo pred podrum smo seli,
Kraj nas je pijar pon,
Škrilake smo na travo si deli –
Zvoni čez breg zvon.

Mi molimo na polne tu Boga,
A z breskvi cvet curi,
Leti kraj granja pozlačenoga,
Na vetru se beli.

Čkomimo… i tak lepo i leko
I nebo je i sȅ…
I mislimo na nekaj daleko,
A zvoni zvone…

 

Fran Galović: The Blue Sky

In front of the basement leaning we sat,

Next to us, a full chalice at that,

Our hats in the grass –

Through the hills tolled the bell of brass.

 

We pray at noon here to God,

And from the peach trees flowers do fall,

Flying by branches of gold,

And the wind white becomes.

 

Silent we are… and so nice and easy

the sky too and all…

And we are thinking of something far away,

As the bells do toll…

 

Fran Galović: V trsju

Po zemle se čverec uleče,

Trsje mirno spi,

Vrana dalko kvarče i leče,

Nebo se plavi.

 

Meko je i još se gazi-

Neje vroče baš,

Jen debeli mravec plazi,

S trsa na brajdaš.

 

Kakti steza, pona snega,

Oblak stal se dog,

Vu  seče je nakraj brega

Počel cvesti glog.

 

Fran Galović: Grapes

Along the ground a worm crawls,

The grapes sleep peacefully,

A crow caws in the distance,

The sky is blue,

 

It’s soft and ripe,

It’s not that hot,

And a fat ant crawls,

From grapes onto leaves.

 

Like a snow covered road,

A cloud appears,

And on the end of the hill,

The Hawthorns bloom.

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