1
Be manly, my friends, in the fight do not tire.
The struggleТs unequal, the conflict is dire!
Silent above you — the stars in the sky.
Beneath you are graves. Just as silent they lie.
Olympus leaves gods not a thing to desire.
Eternally carefree, from work they donТt tire.
Troubles and labours belong to mankind.
Man cannot know victory. DeathТs all he finds.
2
Be manly, fight on, my brave friends.
The battle is brutal, it seems without end.
Stars revolve silently over your heads.
Far below you — the mute, distant graves of the dead.
Let Olympus with envious eyes gaze down
on this war of inflexible hearts.
The fighter who falls beneath DestinyТs darts
has torn from their grasp the victory-crown!
1
Мужайтесь, о други, боритесь прилежно,
Хоть бой и неравен, борьба безнадежна!
Над вами светила молчат в вышине,
Под вами могилы — молчат и оне.
Пусть в горнем Олимпе блаженствуют боги:
Бессмертье их чуждо труда и тревоги;
Тревога и труд лишь для смертных сердец…
Для них нет победы, для них есть конец.
2
Мужайтесь, боритесь, о храбрые други,
Как бой ни жесток, ни упорна борьба!
Над вами безмолвные звездные круги,
Под вами немые, глухие гроба.
Пускай олимпийцы завистливым оком
Глядят на борьбу непреклонных сердец.
Кто, ратуя, пал, побежденный лишь Роком,
Тот вырвал из рук их победный венец.
«In these days of unheard-of suffering / One is lucky indeed to have no heart: / Crack-shots plug me again and again, / But have no luck. Riddled with holes, I laugh / At the furious pack: “Tally-ho, boys! / I am a lattice. Look through me. / Isn’t the landscape lovely?” But suppo...»
«Against the rest of the playground"s kids / She bears the resemblance of a froglet. / Worn-out shirt of hers is tucked in boxers, / Curls of her reddish hair are rid / Of comb, her mouth"s long, teeth aren"t well-ordered, / Her set of features is irregular and pointed. / The fathers of t...»
«Among the other playing children she / Seems to be a little awful frogling. / The pants tucked in her poor shirt you see, / The curly hair — tousled all and nodding, / The curve teeth and the mouth long on face, / The features're sharp and ugly to disgrace. The fathers recently have ...»
«Obey you? You must be insane! / I will obey if God gives reason. / I don't want tremor, don't want pain, / My husband's house is my prison. But, see, I've come to you myself; / December on the wind was riding, / Your prison was so warm and safe, / And darkness outside was hiding. That'...»