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> Varbūt kāds zinās pateikt, vai šis te ir tulkots latviski?, "Anything Goes," written in 1934 by Cole Porter
Aiva
iesūtīt 11.10.2018 11:53
Raksts #1


Lecina seskus
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Grupa: Daiļdarbu pārziņi
Pievienojās: 22.12.03
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Interesējos, vai šai dziesmai būtu oficiāls tulkojums latviski, ja ne, tad varbūt kāds ieteiktu, frāzes 'anything goes' tulkošanas variantus?

"Anything Goes," written in 1934 by Cole Porter for his musical by the same name.

https://youtu.be/as-whCYL4ns

https://youtu.be/wYahz6VIpIM

Times have changed,
And we've often rewound the clock,
Since the Puritans got a shock,
When they landed on Plymouth Rock.
If today,
Any shock they should try to stem,
'Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,
Plymouth Rock would land on them.

In olden days a glimpse of stockings
Was looked on as something shocking,
Now, heaven knows,
Anything Goes.

Good authors too who once knew better words,
Now only use four letter words
Writing prose,
Anything goes.

The world has gone mad today
And good's bad today,
And black's white today,
And day's night today,
When most guys today
That women prize today
Are just silly gigolos

So though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes

The world has gone mad today
And good's bad today,
And black's white today,
And day's night today,
When most guys today
That women prize today
Are just silly gigolos

So though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes...
Anything goes!

Šo rakstu rediģēja Aiva: 20.10.2018 13:43
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echo3
iesūtīt 14.10.2018 14:21
Raksts #2


Piedalās Bezgalvju medībās
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Grupa: Biedri
Pievienojās: 11.08.04
Kur: Nu jā, - pašlaik pie datora
Klusais censonis



Der itin viss? Ar variantu "Derēs it viss" beigās?
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Aiva
iesūtīt 20.10.2018 12:33
Raksts #3


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Grupa: Daiļdarbu pārziņi
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Ir mainījies laiks,
tik daudz reižu pulkstens ir uzvilkts,
Kopš puritāņiem bij milzīgs šoks,
Kad tie stājās pie Plimutas klints
Un ja šodien,
kāds šoks būtu tiem jāiztur,
Tad ne uz Plimutas Klints tie stātu,
bet Plimutas Klints pār tiem nāktu

Ak dienas senās, kad tikai īss mirklis skatīt meitenes zeķi,
jau bija gals viņas tikumam, slavai un godam.
Bet šobrīd? Debess man liecinieks…
Iespējams ir it viss!

Ak rakstnieki, kas reiz zināja miljoniem vārdu…
Šobrīd lepojas, rakstot tik rupjības prastas.
Teksti bez jēgas.
Iespējams ir it viss!

Šodien pasaule jukusi prātā
Kas bija labs, vairs nav piedienīgs
Melnā kļuvusi jaunā baltā krāsa
Un nakts darbus darām mēs dienā…
Un vairums vīriešu šodien
Ko sievietes iekāro
Ir tikai prasti žigolo

Lai es arī neesmu romantiska
Tev nāksies tomēr man atbildēt
Kad teikšu es
Iespējams ir it viss...

Tāpēc zinu es,
tev atbildēt nāksies, kad teikšu es
Iespējams ir it viss?

------

Kritizējam, iesakam, labojam?
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echo3
iesūtīt 20.10.2018 19:56
Raksts #4


Piedalās Bezgalvju medībās
*******

Grupa: Biedri
Pievienojās: 11.08.04
Kur: Nu jā, - pašlaik pie datora
Klusais censonis



Man kaut kā liekas, ka dziesmas beigas nav īsti saprastas.

"So though I'm not a great romancer
I know that I'm bound to answer
When you propose,
Anything goes...
Anything goes!"

"Lai arī es neesmu romantiska,
Es zinu, ko esmu gatava atbildēt
Kad tu mani bildināsi -
Iespējams ir it viss...
Iespējams ir it viss!"

Varbūt neiekļaujas melodijā, nepārbaudīju. Bet teksta jēga ir tāda.

Mazliet rada arī šaubas sākums:

"If today,
Any shock they should try to stem,
'Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,
Plymouth Rock would land on them."

"Bet šodien,
Ja arī kas tos spētu šokēt,
Tad nevis pie Plimutas klints ja stātu,
Bet ka Plimutas klints pār tiem nāktu."

Cits viss man patika. Forši!
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Aiva
iesūtīt 20.10.2018 21:28
Raksts #5


Lecina seskus
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Grupa: Daiļdarbu pārziņi
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Paldies par ieteikumiem, par beigām piekrītu, tur es nebiju līdz galam sapratis.

Jāsaka, ka sākumā tulkoju fanfiku "Der it viss" ( http://www.kurbijkurne.lv/forums/index.php?showtopic=48886 ), tikai vēlāk uzraku dziesmu un saku meklēt tās tulkojumu, kas protams maina testa jēgu un iedod papildmateriālu.

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Aiva
iesūtīt 03.11.2018 02:47
Raksts #6


Lecina seskus
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Grupa: Daiļdarbu pārziņi
Pievienojās: 22.12.03
Gondoras sargs



The Garden of Proserpine
By Algernon Charles Swinburne

Here, where the world is quiet;
- Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
- In doubtful dreams of dreams;
I watch the green field growing
For reaping folk and sowing,
For harvest-time and mowing,
- A sleepy world of streams.

I am tired of tears and laughter,
- And men that laugh and weep;
Of what may come hereafter
- For men that sow to reap:
I am weary of days and hours,
Blown buds of barren flowers,
Desires and dreams and powers
- And everything but sleep.

Here life has death for neighbour,
- And far from eye or ear
Wan waves and wet winds labour,
- Weak ships and spirits steer;
They drive adrift, and whither
They wot not who make thither;
But no such winds blow hither,
- And no such things grow here.

No growth of moor or coppice,
- No heather-flower or vine,
But bloomless buds of poppies,
- Green grapes of Proserpine,
Pale beds of blowing rushes
Where no leaf blooms or blushes
Save this whereout she crushes
- For dead men deadly wine.

Pale, without name or number,
- In fruitless fields of corn,
They bow themselves and slumber
- All night till light is born;
And like a soul belated,
In hell and heaven unmated,
By cloud and mist abated
- Comes out of darkness morn.

Though one were strong as seven,
- He too with death shall dwell,
Nor wake with wings in heaven,
- Nor weep for pains in hell;
Though one were fair as roses,
His beauty clouds and closes;
And well though love reposes,
- In the end it is not well.

Pale, beyond porch and portal,
- Crowned with calm leaves, she stands
Who gathers all things mortal
- With cold immortal hands;
Her languid lips are sweeter
Than love's who fears to greet her
To men that mix and meet her
- From many times and lands.

She waits for each and other,
- She waits for all men born;
Forgets the earth her mother,
- The life of fruits and corn;
And spring and seed and swallow
Take wing for her and follow
Where summer song rings hollow
- And flowers are put to scorn.

There go the loves that wither,
- The old loves with wearier wings;
And all dead years draw thither,
- And all disastrous things;
Dead dreams of days forsaken,
Blind buds that snows have shaken,
Wild leaves that winds have taken,
- Red strays of ruined springs.

We are not sure of sorrow,
- And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
- Time stoops to no man's lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
- Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
- From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
- Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
- Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
- Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
- Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
- In an eternal night.


The Garden of Proserpine
By Algernon Charles Swinburne

Aldžernons Čārlzs Svinbērns,

Swinburne was one of the most accomplished lyric poets of the Victorian era and was a preeminent symbol of rebellion against the conservative values of his time.

Interesē, vai viņš būtu tulkots latviski?


Tumsā dunēdams ledus : dzeja, atdzeja
Creator: Majevskis, Hermanis Marģers


Rīga : Elpa, 2001

ISBN:
9984543889 (ies.)

Minētajā krājumā ir viens Svinbērna dzejolis, diemžēl ne "Proserpines dārzs", tā ka nāksies Jums pieciest manu laušanos caur celmiem...

Šo rakstu rediģēja Aiva: 06.11.2018 12:47
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