Showing posts with label Translation of Walden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Translation of Walden. Show all posts

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Ben Jonson in Thoreau's Walden


In chapter Sounds, Thoreau finds the owls sounds and singing to be "Ben Jonsonian." He was an English dramatist and poet 1573?–1637.Their dismal scream is truly Ben Jonsonian."
"When other birds are still, the screech owls take up the strain, like mourning women their ancient u-lu-lu. 

I love this poem from Ben Jonson very much:

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
         And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
         And I’ll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
         Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
         I would not change for thine.
   
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
         Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope, that there
         It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe,
         And sent’st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
         Not of itself, but thee.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Let's go

In chapter 4 of Walden called Sounds, Thoreau says, "Regularly at half-past seven, in one part of the summer, after the evening train had gone by, the whip-poor-wills chanted their vespers for half an hour, sitting on a stump by my door, or upon the ridge-pole of the house."
This is my translation:

به طور مرتب در بخشی از تابستان در ساعت هفت و نیم، پس از عبور قطار غروب، مرغان پشه­خوار نیم ساعتی بر کنده­ی کنار کلبه­­ی من  یا بر تیرک وسط سقف آن می­نشستند و  سرود نماز غروب خویش را سر می­دادند 

And if you are all interested, here is the way the bird actually sings: 


Do copy and paste the address in your browswer and check the beautiful song of the bird.  Judge for yourself!  Who prays more beautifully?  We or the bird?  Forget about the engines roaring around you.  Forget about angry people shouting at each other in the hectic city in which we live.  Just follow the link, close your eyes, take a deep breath and find yourself sitting somewhere near Thoreau’s cabin in Walden or with Sue beside her beautiful small garden.