Но у меня наблюдается необъяснимая слабость к такому слогу - без привязки к тексту даже - такому немного нервному, категоричному.
Как будто шершавым языком по оголенному проводу - болезненно-приятно. Меня прямо завораживает.
26.04.2010 в 19:33
Пишет
Lantse:
Сильвия Плат. "Леди Лазарь" (читает автор)Не могу не воспроизвести, раз уж такое есть:
Lady LazarusАнглийский текст
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it -
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify? -
The nose, the eye pits, the ful set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like a cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annhialate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see.
Them unwrap me hand and foot -
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies,
These are my hands,
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut.
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms from me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like anything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
"A miracle!"
That knocks me out.
There is a charge.
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart -
it really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge,
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, So, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash -
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there -
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer,
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.В
википедической статье есть немного про различия между чтением и общепринятым текстом.
URL записиЗдесь есть перевод некоторых произведений, в том числе и "Леди Лазарь".
Статья в Википедии.