“The Color Blue” by Nikoloz Baratashvili, translated by Boris Pasternak. Color of heaven, blue Blue color parsnip

Blue sky color,
light "before the beginning of years"
by whom the world was created,
My idol since my youth.

Even now when
my blood is like water,
blue grace, -
I can't betray.

Cornflower blue eyes,
my spirit is warmed by you,
absorbed the azure of the sky,
You gave me their delight.

Thought is my dream,
pulls to the top, on the way,
where I am with love,
I know the essence of heaven.

Tears in my dear eyes,
my death will not give birth,
the sadness of heaven, my ashes
sprinkle with dew.

I know, the fog of time,
the inscriptions will be hidden by the slabs.
Saved by a ray of heaven,
I'll fly to the zenith in blue!

Translit

Cisa Pers, Lurjsa Pers,
pirvelad kmnilsa pers
yes ar amkvekniurs,
sikrmitan vetrpodi.

Yes akhlats, grew siskhli
makvs gatsiebuli,
vpitsav me - ar vetrpo
ar oden persa khvas.

Tvalebshi mshveniers,
vetpi me cisa pers;
mosruli igi qit
gamokrtis siamit.

Pikri me sanatri
mimitsevs cisa cads,
rum ashhit damdnari
Shewerto Lurjsa Pers.

Movkvdebi - ver vnahav
tsremlsa me mshobliurs, -
mis matsvlad tsa lurji
damaprkvevs tsvars tsiurs!

Samaras chamsa grew up
gars nisli moetsvas, -
Igitsa shestsiros

Interlinear

In the color of heaven, blue,
Pristine color
And unearthly [not of this world]
I've been in love since my youth.

And now when the blood
I'm getting cold,
I swear I won't love you
Never another color.

Beautiful in the eyes
I am in love with the heavenly color;
He, saturated with the sky,
Radiates delight.

Duma is a dream
Pulls me to the heavenly heights
So that, melting from love [charm],
I merged with the color blue.

I'll die and I won't see you
I am my dear tears,
Instead the sky is blue
Sprinkle me with the dew of heaven.

my grave when
The fog will cover
Let him be sacrificed too
A ray [glow] to the blue sky!

Translation by B. Pasternak*

Heavenly color, blue color
I fell in love with it from an early age.
As a child it meant to me
The blue of others began.

And now that I have reached
I am the peak of my days,
As a sacrifice to other flowers
I won't give away the blue one

He is beautiful without embellishment -
This is the color of your favorite eyes,
This is your bottomless gaze,
Scorched blue.

This is the color of my dreams
This is the paint of height.
In this blue solution
The earth's expanse is immersed

It's an easy transition
Into the unknown from worries
And from crying relatives
At your funeral.

It's a thin blue
Frost over my stove
This is blue winter smoke
Darkness over my name.

* I provide Pasternak’s translation on my page for comparison
with interlinear. For my part, I am forced to summarize,
that the lyrical work of B. Pasternak “Blue Color” does not have
nothing in common with the work of Nikoloz Melitonovich Baratashvili.

** My translation is a tribute to the work of the great Georgian poet.

***Additional information and detailed analysis translation
"The Color Blue" by Pasternak, can be found in the article by Yuri Lifshits, on
literary resource Poetry ru or in book 6 of the magazine "Literary Studies" for 2009.

Reviews

I will still pay tribute to Pasternak’s wonderful poem.
As for translations, it should be noted that the technical equipment of those living today puts them head and shoulders above any translators of the twentieth century (not in terms of intelligence, I note). Deep knowledge and feeling of the original language is possible only after a long (ten years) residence in the environment of this language.
That's why we see a lot beautiful poems“on the topic” of foreign works, but it seems to me that one should not blame the translators of the past (especially those who are not allowed to travel abroad and do not have daily access to explanatory dictionaries of the original language). Our competition with them is only possible on an aesthetic plane, if you like.
:))
Vadim

Vadim, I can only agree with that
that the Blue Color of Parsnips is expressive
and a finished lyrical work...,
but only with this. Blue Parsnip Color –
this is not even a poem based on it and not so much
because it randomly changes the author's size,
how much because it ABSOLUTELY distorts the meaning
works of Baratashvili, i.e. literally says
everything is exactly the opposite. Nobel Prize if desired
the laureate could receive not only more than a dozen exact interlinear translations,
but also to listen to the work in the original, but...
Unfortunately, Pasternak has the vast majority of such translations,
what is Hamlet alone worth...
The indicator of the accuracy of the “translation” of the Blue Color according to the method
famous philologist Mikhail Leonidovich Gasparov 37.5%,
Agree that the percentage is depressing.
I also don’t think that Mr. Pasternak
excuses the technical lack of equipment of his time,
because at the same time, many talented translators lived and worked (including those who were not allowed to travel abroad),
for whom the lack of Internet was not an obstacle to writing a talented translation.

In my opinion, Pasternak simply did not need to call his Blue Color a translation.
With such a percentage of “hitting the original” as his, no one would accuse Pasternak of plagiarism.

P.S. I suspect that this statement of mine addressed to the master will cause a rebuke from his ardent fans,
who, however, are unlikely to look at my page, but having studied Pasternak’s translation heritage and his lyrics in general well enough, I cannot call him not only a decent translator but also a good poet, and not only because his poems often lack intelligible content, but and because in his
cycles of poems, already in the post-Nobel period one often encounters weak rhymes and stylistic
errors.

I subscribe to your every word!
I’m just pointing out that it’s not worth discussing their mistakes if there is an opportunity to do better. It's probably not even worth wasting your TIME on this.
For example, I distorted the meaning in the translation:

And they sent me a completely reasonable remark, but bypassing and distorting an action that was incomprehensible to me (burying petals), I put in a meaning that touched me personally as a reader. But the “correct version” of the translation sent to me does not touch me, I cannot accept it. I am not ready to defend my version and cannot accept someone else’s.
My point is that it is possible to choose from many translations the one that is closest in meaning, rhythm and conveyed feeling, but everyone will choose a different translation, because for him one thing is more important than the other, and a complete coincidence of feelings is impossible.
This means that all translations are valuable in their own way and have a right to exist. And even far from 70% in meaning from the original.
But Pasternak was not given the prize for poetry, after all. But look at the translations of Frost by the “famous translator” Toporov, who recently died...
No respect for the author.
Maybe because it is not at all easy to translate poetry?
So I spoil it to the best of my ability...
:))

Vadim for me there are 2 types
unsuccessful translations: the first one is an honest mistake
(the translator uses his entire available, but scarce arsenal, -
insufficient to convey meaning
and melodies of the original), but after constructive
criticism of opponents does not repeat those admitted in
previous translations errors, the second is disparaging
negligence (the author of the translation having at his disposal all the necessary
arsenal for good translation,
makes a mediocre translation for deeply personal reasons
(laziness, mercantile interests, originality, etc.)
often completely ignoring the criticisms of opponents.
The author of the first version is worthy of respectful indulgence,
and constructive private criticism,
the author of the second - censure and impartial public criticism.
Since I have not the slightest doubt about the talent of Boris Pasternak,
and his disdainful attitude of criticism was repeatedly blamed on him,
I attribute his translation errors to the second type.

As for the reviewer opposing you (I went through your link), his (her) translation, despite
greater closeness to the original in certain minor details, I
With a very big stretch I can call it artistic.

Good luck.

“The Color Blue” by Nikoloz Baratashvili, translated by Boris Pasternak
read by Boris Pasternak

Russian poet Boris Leonidovich Pasternak was born on January 29 (February 10, New Style) 1890 in Moscow and died on May 30, 1960 in Peredelkino from lung cancer. His entire life was seventy years, three months and twenty days.

The poem “Blue Color” (untitled in the original), written by N. Baratashvili in 1841 and translated by B. Pasternak no later than 1938, has long become in Russia a kind of calling card of the brilliant Georgian poet. When thinking about him, the lines “The color of heaven, the color blue / I fell in love from an early age…” spontaneously appear in my memory. Few people can remember Baratashvili’s other poems, but “The Color Blue” is known to absolutely all fans of Russian poetry. Before Pasternak, this poem was translated into Russian by V. Gaprindashvili, whose translation was published in 1922 in what was then Tiflis and, of course, could not reach the Russian public. In Georgia, Pasternak’s translation (as far as I know, there are simply no others) is known quite widely, although the attitude towards it is not as reverent as in Russia, but more jealous and biased. And, I must say, there are reasons for this. But more on that below.
Until now, none of the Russian critics had somehow thought to compare the original “The Color Blue” with its translation. There are, in my opinion, at least three reasons for this. First: the genius of Pasternak’s text, which I don’t even want to find fault with. The second is the reluctance of professional literary critics to spoil their reputation by criticizing a Russian classic. It is possible to understand them: the overwhelming majority of Russian philologists do not know the Georgian language, “The Blue Color” was translated long ago, the translation itself is not just a masterpiece, but a part of Russian culture. The third reason is the possible absence in Pasternak’s archives of precisely the interlinear translation from which the Russian poet translated the Georgian poet’s poem.
Maybe this will not seem entirely correct to some, but I intend to make a kind of experiment: compare Pasternak’s translation with someone else’s (almost word-for-word) interlinear translation, performed at my request by the poetess I. Sanadze, since I myself cannot boast of knowing the Georgian language. And although interlinear translations of the same poem, compiled different people V different time, can and should differ in some ways, but in the main they must still coincide: the language in which the original poem was written remains the same, explanatory dictionaries no one has canceled it, and possible nuances of meaning in this case are unimportant. Especially with the approach (I will say, looking ahead) that Pasternak demonstrated, transposing the Georgian original into Russian poetry.

Blaues Wunder (Blue miracle) - this is what they call an unpleasant surprise when nothing seemed to predict...

The phrase comes from the Middle Ages, when people had not yet studied chemistry at school and knew little about the nature of things. Fabrics were dyed blue as follows: the fabric was immersed in liquid yellow color, and then hung it in the air. The organic dye oxidized and turned from yellow, first to green, and then to blue. Well, why not a miracle?

The question arises: how did ancient people obtain the organic yellow liquid that provided this miracle? Yes, easily: urea was the main component of this solution. The answer to the next question is even simpler: dyers produced it themselves, from urine. To increase production volumes, I had to drink a lot. And even then it was common knowledge how an abundance of beer affects a person. So we tried our best. But in the morning, of course, I had to suffer. Albeit for production reasons. I only had enough strength to hang up the canvases that got wet at night and wait for a miracle in a semi-conscious hangover.
This is where it came from popular expression Blaumachen (Make blue). We have the verb “bruise,” but it’s not about later, so I haven’t found an exact analogue yet. Nowadays it means idleness, shirking from work, skimping.

Den Blauen Brief bekommen (Get a black mark blue letter) - unpleasant official news. In 18th-century Prussia, as now, they cared about information security. Particularly important royal letters were sent in thick blue envelopes, the paper for which was made from scraps of blue uniforms that had fallen into disrepair. Such letters were not read in the open. But they obviously didn’t expect anything good from them, since the expression is still preserved.

The expression Blaues Blut (Blue Blood) - many people know this - originated from Spain. The nobility there was mostly “in large numbers.” And marriages were often concluded with the same pale-skinned aristocrats from the northern lands, which is why noble dons and dons were distinguished by a lighter skin tone, through which blue veins gently shone through. Not like the common people, smoked by the southern sun, with hot scarlet blood bubbling through their arteries.

Blaue Augen machen (to make blue eyes) - ignorance and childish naivety.

We owe the origin of the expression not to blue-eyed, stupid blondes - the ideal target for boorish jokes of misogynists. If you take a good look around, all babies up to about a year old are blue-eyed (at least I didn’t come across others), because the pigment of the iris does not begin to appear immediately. Therefore, our analogue fits the meaning: “naive, like a baby”

Well, a lot about eye color: English and Danish scientists somehow found out that all people on Earth were born with brown eyes. And only 6-10 thousand years ago one blue-eyed mutant was born. That's all! We, the light-eyed ones, then all came from him and that means we are all relatives))

In general, the color blue is associated in society with the sky, water, and therefore with freedom.

Our yoga teacher assured us that it was good for communication. Advised for important meetings for success. wear something in a matching blue tone.

Believe it or not, I interviewed with 3 companies this summer. In blue. And I received a job offer from all three.

Well, for those who read to the end, a little lyrical bonus.

My husband and I met at the wedding of his friend and my girlfriend. The winter brunette looked irresistible in a bright blue shirt. And I couldn’t take my eyes off the tanned (after the holidays) platinum blonde in pale blue. Maybe our “blue clothes”, or maybe a couple of glasses of vodka with the wedding “bitter”, made our communication so much easier that we left the wedding together and never parted again))

Blue color Pasternak Baratashvili Siny Tsvet Pasternak Baratashvili

Uploaded 12/31/2010

The color is heavenly, blue. poetry full text video video. Poetry. A poem by the brilliant Georgian poet Nikolo (Nikoloz) Baratashvili, written in 1841. The author of this translation into Russian is the brilliant Russian poet Boris Pasternak, rare video rare video video HD The poem was written by Boris Pasternak in the period before 1938. Read by Gabriadze.

Siny Tsvet. Deep Blue Color. The best Georgian poetry is written by genius poet Nikolo Baratashvili and translated into Russian by genius Russian poet Boris Pasternak.Gabriadze is reading. rare video rare video video HD

Nikolo (Nikoloza) Baratashvili

Interlinear translation, literal translation into Russian, made by the modern Georgian poetess I. Sanadze.

IN sky color, blue color,
Pristine color
And unearthly [not of this world]
I'm with in love with my youth.

AND now that blood
I'm getting cold,
I swear I won't love you
Never different color.

IN eyes V beautiful
I'm heavenly in love color;
He, rich sky,
Radiates delight.

Duma - dream
Pulls me to the heavenly heights
So that melted from love [charm],
I merged with blue color.

I'll die and I won't see
Tears I'm dear
Instead the sky is blue
Sprinkle me with the dew of heaven.

When ogil mine
Will make fog,
Let him be sacrificed too
A ray [glow] to the blue sky!

1841

Boris Pasternak

Color of heaven, blue color poems full text video video

Heavenly color, blue color
Loved it I'm with small years.
IN childhood he told me meant
Sinev other began.

AND now that has reached
I peaks days theirs,
IN victim other colors
Blue Not I'll give it back.

He beautiful without embellishment.
This color loved ones eye.
This sight bottomless is yours,
Filled with blue.

This color my dreams.
This dye height.
In that blue solution
Immersed terrestrial space.

This easy transition
IN unknown from worries
And from crying relatives
On funeral mine.

This blue sparse
Frost over mine stove.
This gray winter smoke
Mists above name mine.

The poem was written before 1938.

http ://www. poezia. ru/article. php? sid=67283

Beautiful methodological material to conduct a lesson at a school, lyceum or university on the topic of Russian literature and history of the 19th and 20th centuries, Georgia and Russia, Georgian civilization, lyrical hero in Russian culture.

All rights belong to the copyright holders - the creators and owners of this work, and they are inalienable. Published only for the sake of saving and preserving the best works of Russian culture.

The author’s cultural and socio-political project “Charming Russia” by Alexander Bogdanov - “The spiritual life of Russian people in Russia of the 20th and 21st centuries” is an example of how, with the help of new information technologies can be saved, preserved and united best works created in Russia, for the sake of a new life for these beautiful works in general culture our people.

siny_tsvet_pasternak_baratashvili_gabria dze.69.4m.wmv.wmv

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