Poetry Party
The theme: Poetry of outstanding English authors.
The aim: by the end of the party the Ss will be able to recite poems by R.Burns, G.G. Byron, P.B. Shelley, A. A. Milne etc. both in English and in Russian, they will raise awareness of English literature and culture.
Materials and equipment: portraits of poets, multimedia presentation of poets, wallpapers, tape “Auld Lang Syne”, poems and translations, candles.
It 1: We begin our poetry party dedicated to the greatest English poets Robert Burns, Percy Bysshe Shelley, George Gordon Byron, Alan Alexander Milne and others. They are very popular all over the world, their poems were translated into Russian at the close of the 18th century. We admire their poems and songs in the original and in the wonderful translations. Now we want to tell you some words about these great poets and recite some poems and their translations. The poetry and songs of these poets are famous all over the world and they are very dear to all people. They hoped for the better future for the people, justice for all, they sang the beauty of their native land.
Now you’ll hear Burns’s most popular poems. Burns had a deep love for Scotland, its history and folklore. In many of his poems Burns sings the glorious past of his native land. Burns also sings the beauty of his homeland. Listen to the poem “My Heart’s In the Highlands”. … And now its wonderful translation “В горах мое сердце”.
Burns was a remarkable lyric poet. In his lyrical poems and songs Burns glorifies true love and friendship. Listen to “A Red, Red Rose” … and the translation.
Some of Burns’s lyrical poems are popular as songs all over the world. Burns’s poems and verses inspired Beethoven, Schumann, Mendelssohn and other composers who wrote music to them. The best-known cycle of songs to R. Burns’s verses was composed in our country by Georgi Sviridov. Now let’s sing the most popular song “Auld Lang Syne” together.
It 2: Now another great English poet George Gordon Byron. He was born in London into an old aristocratic family. He spent a lot of years of his life in Scotland. He was fond of the rocky coasts and mountains of the country. His love of the natural scenery was reflected in many of his poems. At the same time George G. Byron sang the beauty and the fascination in his poems. Listen to his poem “She Walks in Beauty”. And now the translation of the poem.
The poet often raised his voice in defence of the slaves, workers encouraging them to fight for freedom in his poems. Byron was a man of strong will and passion, he was against of tyranny and injustice, he dreamt about happiness. Now you’ll listen to his poem “I Would I Were a Careless Child” and then its Russian version.
One of the greatest of the English Romantic poets is Percy Bysshe Shelley. Shelley wrote a great number of lyrical, philosophical and satirical poems as well as essays on art and poetry. He composed verses to the melodies of old folk songs, which he had admired from his early childhood. He wrote about the woods, fields and wonderful valleys of his native land. The poetry and songs of Shelley are famous all over the world. He is dear to many people. Now you will hear his most popular poems “The Cloud” and “Fugitives” and their translations.
Now we want to remember Alan Alexander Milne. He was one of the brightest writers and poets of Great Britain. He was born in London and became editor of the university’s journal “Granta” in which he published some of his light humorous poems. He also published his witty works in London magazines. A. Milne wrote a lot of poems for his son Christopher Robin and about him. Some of his poems became very popular songs. Listen to the poem “Waiting at the Window”in three languages: English, Russian and Ossetian.
Walter de la Mare was an English poet, short-story writer and novelist. He is best remembered for his works for children. He was born in Kent in 1873 and was educated at St. Paul’s School. His first book was “Songs of Childhood”. Today you will hear his poem “Silver”.
My Heart’s in the Highlands
(R. Burns)
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,
A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe-
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go!
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth!
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands forever I love.
Farewell to the mountains high cover’d with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below,
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and long-pouring floods!
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,
A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe-
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go!
В горах мое сердце
В горах мое сердце…Доныне я там.
По следу оленя лечу по скалам.
Гоню я оленя, пугаю козу.
В горах мое сердце, а сам я внизу.
Прощай, моя родина! Север, прощай,-
Отечество славы и доблести край.
По белому свету судьбою гоним,
Навеки останусь я сыном твоим!
Прощайте, вершины под кровлей снегов,
Прощайте, долины и скаты лугов,
Прощайте, поникшие в бездну леса,
Прощайте, потоков лесных голоса.
В горах мое сердце…Доныне я там.
По следу оленя лечу по скалам.
Гоню я оленя, пугаю козу.
В горах мое сердце, а сам я внизу.
(Перевод С. Маршака)
A Red, Red Rose
(R. Burns)
O my love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my love is like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I:
And I will love you still, my dear;
Till all the seas gang dry.
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will love you still, my dear,
While the sands o’ love shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only Love!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Love,
Tho’ it were thousand mile.
Любовь
Любовь, как роза, роза красная,
Цветет в моем саду.
Любовь моя – как песенка,
С которой в путь иду.
Сильнее красоты твоей
Моя любовь одна.
Она с тобой, пока моря
Не высохнут до дна.
Не высохнут моря, мой друг,
Не рушится гранит, Не остановится песок,
А он, как жизнь, бежит…
Будь счастлива, моя любовь,
Прощай и не грусти.
Вернусь к тебе, хоть целый свет
Пришлось бы мне пройти!
(Перевод С. Маршака)
She Walks in Beauty
(G.G. Byron)
She walks in Beauty like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies:
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less.
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Oh softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
Sop soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Она идет во всей красе
Она идет во всей красе –
Светла как ночь ее страны.
Вся глубь небес и звезды все
В ее очах заключены,
Как солнце в утренней росе,
Но только мраком смягчены.
Прибавить луч иль тень отнять –
И будет уж совсем не та
Волос агатовая прядь,
Не те глаза, не те уста
И лоб, где помыслов печать
Так безупречна, так чиста.
И этот взгляд, и цвет ланит,
И легкий смех, как всплеск морской,
Все в ней о мире говорит.
Она в душе хранит покой
И если счастье подарит,
То самой щедрою рукой!
(Перевод С. Маршака)
I Would I Were a Careless Child
G. G. Byron
I Would I Were a Careless Child,
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild,
Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave;
The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride,
Accords not with the free-born soul,
Which loves the mountain’s craggy side,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Fortune! Take back these cultured lands,
Take back this name of splendid sound!
I hate the touch of servile hands,
I hate the slaves that cringe around.
Place me among the rocks I love,
Which sound to Ocean’s wildest roar:
I ask but this – again to rove
Through scenes my youth hath known before.
Хочу я быть ребенком вольным
Хочу я быть ребенком вольным
И снова жить в родных горах,
Скитаться по лесам раздольным,
Качаться на морских волнах.
Не сжиться мне душой свободной
С саксонской пышной суетой!
Милее мне над зыбью водной
Утес, который бьет прибой!
Судьба! Возьми назад щедроты
И титул, что в веках звучит!
Жить меж рабов мне нет охоты,
Их руки пожимать - мне стыд!
Верни мне край мой одичалый,
Где знал я грезы ранних лет,
Где реву океана скалы
Шлют свой бестрепетный ответ!
(Перевод В. Брюсова)
The Cloud
P. B. Shelley
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Облако
От ручьев и морей свежесть летних дождей
Приношу я цветам истомленным.
И прозрачную тень я дарю в знойный день
Листьям в сладкий покой погруженным.
Я на крыльях несу и роняю росу:
Ею каждая почка упьется,
Пробуждаясь во мгле на родимой земле,
Что вкруг солнца, как в пляске, несется.
Града звонким цепом бью далеко кругом,
И белеют зеленые долы.
Я дождем разрешусь и беспечно промчусь:
Слышен гром, слышен смех мой веселый.
(Перевод Н. Минского)
The Fugitives
P. B. Shelley
The waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing,
The lightnings are glancing,
The hoar-spray is dancing –
Away!
The whirwind is rolling,
The thunder is tolling,
The forest is swinging,
The minster bells ringing –
Come away!
The Earth is like Ocean,
Wreck-strewn and in motion:
Bird, beast, man and worm
Have crept out of the storm –
Come away!
Беглецы
Беснуются волны,
Блистание молний
И грома удары.
Предчувствие кары –
Бежим!
Все вихрем объято.
Под грома раскаты,
Под звон колокольный
Тропинкой окольной
Бежим!
Земля с океаном
В бою непрестанном,
Червь, люди, зверь, птица –
Все к бегству стремится.
Скорее бежим!
(Перевод Л. Печерской)
Waiting at the Window
By A. A. Milne
There are my two drops of rain
Waiting on the window-pane.
I am waiting here to see
Which the winning one will be.
Both of them have different names.
One is John and one is James.
All the best and all the worst
Comes from which of them is first.
James had just begun to ooze.
He’s the one I want to lose.
John is waiting to begin.
He’s the one I want to win.
James is going slowly on.
Something sorts of stick to John.
John is moving off at last.
James is going pretty fast.
John is rushing down the pane.
James is going slow again.
James has met a sort of smear.
John is getting very near.
Is he going fast enough?
(James has found a piece of fluff.)
John has hurried quickly by.
James was talking to a fly.
John is there, and John has won!
Look! I told you! Here’s the sun!
Silver
(Walter de la Mare)
Slowly, silently now the moon
Walks in the night in her silver shone;
This way, and that, she peers anв sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees,
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;
A harvest mouse goes scampering by
With silver claws and silver eye
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.
Серебро
Медленно, молча выходит луна,
Свой путь серебром освещает она,
И взглядом холодным все серебрит,
Деревья и фрукты сверкают в ночи,
По крышам серебряным льются лучи.
Свое отражение в окнах ловя,
Зеркальными бликами плещет луна.
Разлила серебро на дома, на луга,
Забрызгала села и города.
Погладила спящего пса по главе,
И мех серебристый вспыхнул во тьме.
В тень голубятни мельком
Заглянув серебряным взглядом
И тихо вздохнув,
Белые грудки посеребрив,
Медленно вышла, лучи опустив.
Мышка-полевка вприпрыжку бежит,
Серебряным глазом с опаской глядит.
Лунные блики в быстрой воде,
Рыбки сверкают, как в серебре.
Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min’?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o’ lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
And here’s a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine;
And we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Старая дружба
Забыть ли старую любовь
И не грустить о ней?
Забыть ли старую любовь
И дружбу прежних дней?
За дружбу старую –
До дна!
За счастье прежних дней!
С тобой мы выпьем, старина,
За счастье прежних дней.
Побольше кружки приготовь
И доверху налей.
Мы пьем за старую любовь,
За дружбу прежних дней.
И вот с тобой сошлись мы вновь,
Твоя рука - в моей.
Я пью за старую любовь,
За дружбу прежних дней!
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