О ритмизованных переводах этой латинской фразы из "Имени розы" - здесь. Моя попытка:בואו נתפרץ בצחוקרם, נתפוצץ מלעג (да, я знаю, остановка между "צחוק"и "רם" мешает)
А в rictibus ударение на первом слоге, да? Я на иврите не припоминаю слов с таким ударением (на третьем слоге с конца), кроме заимствованных типа "аллЕргия" или "адраба". Так что, может, точного ритма и не добьешься.
А вот кстати в рифму к твоей ссылке (хотя ты знаешь, наверное...):
from James Merrill’s “Lost in Translation”:
...I’ve spent the last days, furthermore, Ransacking Athens for that translation of “Palme.” Neither the Goethehaus nor the National Library Seems able to unearth it. Yet I can’t Just be imagining. I’ve seen it. Know How much of the sun-ripe original Felicity Rilke made himself forgo (Who loved French words — verger, mûr, parfumer) In order to render its underlying sense. Know already in that tongue of his What Pains, what monolithic Truths Shadow stanza to stanza’s symmetrical Rhyme-rutted pavement. Know that ground plan left Sublime and barren, where the warm Romance Stone by stone faded, cooled; the fluted nouns Made taller, lonelier than life By leaf-carved capitals in the afterglow. The owlet umlaut peeps and hoots Above the open vowel. And after rain A deep reverberation fills with stars.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2009-05-30 04:50 am (UTC)נתפרץ בצחוק כולנו, נתפוצץ מלעג
А в rictibus ударение на первом слоге, да? Я на иврите не припоминаю слов с таким ударением (на третьем слоге с конца), кроме заимствованных типа "аллЕргия" или "адраба". Так что, может, точного ритма и не добьешься.
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-06-09 10:19 pm (UTC)בוא נצחק עד אור הבוקר, בוא נלוז חזק עד השמיים
(no subject)
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Date: 2009-06-13 06:47 pm (UTC)from James Merrill’s “Lost in Translation”:
...I’ve spent the last days, furthermore,
Ransacking Athens for that translation of “Palme.”
Neither the Goethehaus nor the National Library
Seems able to unearth it. Yet I can’t
Just be imagining. I’ve seen it. Know
How much of the sun-ripe original
Felicity Rilke made himself forgo
(Who loved French words — verger, mûr, parfumer)
In order to render its underlying sense.
Know already in that tongue of his
What Pains, what monolithic Truths
Shadow stanza to stanza’s symmetrical
Rhyme-rutted pavement. Know that ground plan left
Sublime and barren, where the warm Romance
Stone by stone faded, cooled; the fluted nouns
Made taller, lonelier than life
By leaf-carved capitals in the afterglow.
The owlet umlaut peeps and hoots
Above the open vowel. And after rain
A deep reverberation fills with stars.
(no subject)
From:DoctorDikov
Date: 2011-02-27 03:39 am (UTC)Большой теннис