Сто лет из жизни двух породнившихся еврейских семей на фоне "века-людоеда" с его величайшими потрясениями, такими, в частности, как Вторая мировая война и Холокост.
Первая книга создаваемой многотомной поэмы поэм "Журфак" представляет героев произведения на фоне "времени-страны".Герои художественного и одновременно документального эпического по грандиозности замысла "полотна" силою разпичных жизненных обстоятельств приводятся к идее поступления на факультет журналистики МГУ.
По существу -- первое знакомство массового русского читателя с произведениями выдающегося еврейского (идиш) баснописца Элиезера Штейнбарга в пересказе Семена Венцимерова
Sara Teasdale Union Square With the man I love who loves me not, I walked in the street lamps’ flare, We watched the world go home that night In a flood through Union Square/ I leaned to catch the word he said That were light as snowflake falling; Ah, well that he never leaned to hear The words my heart was calling/ And on we walked and on we walked Past the fiery lights of the picture shows - Where the girls with thirsty eyes go by On the errand each man knows/ And on we walked and on we walked, At the door at last we said good by; I know by his smile he had not heard My heart unuttered cry/ With the man I love who loves me not I walked in the stret-lights’ flare - But oh, the girls who can ask for love In the lights of Union square
Dorothy Parker Observation If I don’t drive around the park, I’m pretty sure to make my mark. If I’m in bed in night by ten, I may get my looks again, If I’m abstain from fun and such, I’ll probably amount to much, But I shell stay the way I am, Because I do not give a damn.
Claude McKay The tropics in New York Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root, Cocoa in pods and alligator pears, And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit, Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs, Set in the window, bringing memories Of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills, And dewy dawns, and mystical blue skies In in benediction over nun-light hills. My eyes grew dim? And I could no more zaxe, A wave of longing through my body swept, Nd, hungry for the old familiar ways, I turned aside and bowed my head and wept/
Sara Teasdale Broadway This is the quiet hour; the theaters Hve gathered in their crowds, and steadly The million lights blaze on for few to see, Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers. A woman waits with bag and shabby furs, A somber man drifts by, and only we Pass up the street un wearied, warm and free, For over us the olden magic stirs. Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights We live a little ere the charm is spent; The night ours, of all the golden nights, The pavement an enchanted palace floor, And youth the player on the viol, who sent A strain of music thru an open door/
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above: Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love: My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death. William Butler Yeats Подстрочный перевод (из интернета) Я знаю, что я встречу свою судьбу Где-нибудь в облаках , в вышине- К тем, с кем сражаюсь - я равнодушен, Тех, кого охраняю - я не люблю. Моя родина- приход в Килартане Мои земляки - килартанские нищие Вряд ли моя смерть сделает их еще беднее Или счастливее , чем до того. Ни закон, и ни долг приказали мне сражаться Ни общественные деятели, и ни ликующая толпы, А горестный импульс восторга Погнал меня к этой суматохе (но и - пароксизму) в облаках. Я все подытожил, все сложил - Годы впереди , оказались не стоящими глотка воздуха, И того же глотка не стоили годы прошедшие, Всей этой жизни и этой смерти.
Amy Lowell Anticipation I have been temperate always, But I am like to be very drunk With your coming. There have been times I feared to walk dawn he street Lest I should reel with the wine of you, And jerk against my neighbors As they go by. I am parched now, and my tongue is horrible in my mouth, But my brain id noisy With the clash and gurgle of filling wine-cups.
Edna St. Vincent Millay “If I should learn” If I should learn, in same quite casual way, That you were gone, not to return again - Read from the back-page of a paper, say, Held by a neighbors in a subway train, How at the corner of this avenue And such a street (so are the papers filled) A hurrying man - who happened to be you - At noon today had happened to be killed, I should not cry aloud I could not cry Aloud or wring my hands in such a place - I should but watch the station lights rush by With a more careful interest on my face, Or raise my eyes and read with greater care Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
Walles Stevens Arrival ft the Waldorf Home from Guatemala, back at the Waldorf. This arrival in the wild country of the soul, All approaches gone, being completely there, Where the wild poem is a substitute For the woman one loves or ought to love, Jyf wild rhapsody a fake for another/ You touch the hotel the way you touch light Or sun light and you hum and the orchestra Hums and you say “The world in a verse, A generation sealed, men remoter than mountains, Women invisible in music and motion and color”, After that alien, point-blank, green and actual Guatemala.
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above: Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love: My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death. William Butler Yeats
Claude McKay Song of the Moon The moonlight breaks upon the city’s domes, Fnd falls along ctvtyntd steel and stone, Upon the grayness of the million homes, Lugubrious in unchanging monotone/ Upon the clothes behind the tenement, That hang like ghosts suspended from the lines, Linking each flat, but to each indifferent, Incongruous and strange the moonlight shrines. There is no magic from your presence here, So moon? Sad moon? Tuck up your trailing robe, Whose silvers seems antique and too severe Against the glow of one electric globe. Go spill your beauty on the laughing faces Of happy flowers that bloom a thousand hues, Waiting on tiptoe in the wilding spaces, To drink your wine mixed with sweet draughts of dews.