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Чистый nonsense (сборник) - Эдвард Лир (1992, 2001)

Чистый nonsense (сборник)
  • Год:
    1992, 2001
  • Название:
    Чистый nonsense (сборник)
  • Автор:
  • Жанр:
  • Язык:
    Русский
  • Издательство:
    Борис Архипцев
  • Страниц:
    33
  • ISBN:
    978-5-00098-052-1
  • Рейтинг:
    4 (1 голос)
  • Ваша оценка:
Настоящее издание – появление поразительное, в том числе и уникальное, во множестве своих качеств. Абсолютное коллекция сочинений. Создатель – Эдвард Лир (1812–1888), известный британский поэт и дизайнер XIX века. Основатель поэзии нонсенса. Основатель литературного лимерика. Толмач – Борис Архипцев, осуществивший геройский поступок, отдав работе над книжкой, без мелкого, четверть века. Важная доля слов переведена на русский язык в первый раз. Всё, переведённое по новой, выводит российские интерпретации Э. Лира на свежий, до этого недосягаемый степень. Переводы Архипцева (ему же принадлежат и все иные российские материалы в книжке – вступление, комменты и т. д.) различает исключительный сплав точности, справедливости создателю, его плану и воле, с удивительной свободой изложения, лёгкостью и изяществом слога. Книжка двуязычна: переводы сопровождаются авторскими словами на языке оригинала и личными картинками Эдварда Лира.

Чистый nonsense (сборник) - Эдвард Лир читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги

This event made them all for a time rather melancholy, and perhaps they might never have become less so, had not Lionel with a most praiseworthy devotion and perseverance, continued to stand on one leg and whistle to them in a loud and lively manner, which diverted the whole party so extremely, that they gradually recovered their spirits, and agreed that whenever they should reach home they would subscribe towards a testimonial to Lionel, entirely made of Gingerbread and Raspberries, as an earnest token of their sincere and grateful infection.

After sailing on calmly for several more days, they came to another country, where they were much pleased and surprised to see a countless multitude of white Mice with red eyes, all sitting in a great circle, slowly eating Custard Pudding with the most satisfactory and polite demeanour.

And as the four Travellers were rather hungry, being tired of eating nothing but Soles and Oranges for so long a period, they held a council as to the propriety of asking the Mice for some of their Pudding in a humble and affecting manner, by which they could hardly be otherwise than gratified. It was agreed therefore that Guy should go and ask the Mice, which he immediately did; and the result was that they gave a Walnut-shell only half full of Custard diluted with water. Now, this displeased Guy, who said, ‘Out of such a lot of Pudding as you have got, I must say you might have spared a somewhat larger quantity!’ But no sooner had he finished speaking than all the Mice turned round at once, and sneezed at him in an appalling and vindictive manner, (and it is impossible to imagine a more scroobious and unpleasant sound than that caused by the simultaneous sneezing of many millions of angry Mice,) so that Guy rushed back to the boat, having first shied his cap into the middle of the Custard Pudding, by which means he completely spoiled the Mice’s dinner.

By-and-by the Four Children came to a country where there were no houses, but only an incredibly innumerable number of large bottles without corks, and of a dazzling and sweetly susceptible blue colour. Each of these blue bottles contained a Blue-Bottle Fly, and all of these interesting animals live continually together in the most copious and rural harmony, nor perhaps in many parts of the world is such perfect and abject happiness to be found. Violet, and Slingsby, and Guy, and Lionel, were greatly struck with this singular and instructive settlement, and having previously asked permission of the Blue-Bottle-Flies (which was most courteously granted), the Boat was drawn up to the shore and they proceeded to make tea in front of the Bottles; but as they had no tea-leaves, they merely placed some pebbles in the hot water, and the Quangle-Wangle played some tunes over it on an Accordion, by which of course tea was made directly, and of the very best quality.

The Four Children then entered into conversation with the Blue-Bottle-Flies, who discoursed in a placid and genteel manner, though with a slightly buzzing accent, chiefly owing to the fact that they each held a small clothes-brush between their teeth which naturally occasioned a fizzy extraneous utterance.

‘Why,’ said Violet, ‘would you kindly inform us, do you reside in bottles? and if in bottles at all, why not rather in green or purple, or indeed in yellow bottles?’

To which questions a very aged Blue-Bottle-Fly answered, ‘We found the bottles here all ready to live in, that is to say, our great-great-great-great-great-grandfathers did, so we occupied them at once. And when the winter comes on, we turn the bottles upside down, and consequently rarely feel the cold at all, and you know very well that this could not be the case with bottles of any other colour than blue.’

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