Lyudmila Purgina

Freshman - 678 Points (Russian Federation)

Ivan A. Krylov - The Liar - Fable - Translation (Rus.) - Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

The liar
The fable by Ivan Andreevich Krlylov

From distant travelling on his return to home,
One nobleman (perhaps, he was the knyaz*) ,
While walking through the field, was bragging over
The places, where he had been,
and alternated truth with lie.
'Wow! - he said, - What I had seen there,
I'll never see again. Look at your land!
It has the cold winter and hot summer,
Your sun always hides, or shines so bright to dazzle.
But if you take the place,
where I was feeling a delight,
That was the real Paradise!
You have no any need to wear fur-coat,
And it is so bright, you need not any candle in the night,
The whole year you are fond of weather,
Which here is only in spring.
And no one is sowing a seed - but everywhere
You'll see the fields with crops and greens.
For example, I had seen in Rome such great a cucumber,
That was like a huge mountain! '
His freind said: 'Oh, this miracle
Is not peculiar, surprises are scattered everywhere,

It's only a work of noticing, rather.
Look, we are getting closer to one of them,
Which, I dare say, you haven't seen before. I shan't
Discuss the matter,
But do you see the bridge in front?
It looks so simple in the view,
But has a miraculous quality: no any
Of liars could cross a river,
At middle he is falling through or down the bridge into the water.
But if you're not a liar - you are free
To step on it whether by feet, or a coach'.
'But is it deep? ' 'Of course. You see
That miracles are not so mere in the sight!
Though the roman cocumber is large,
Is as a mountain, as you
have said, ain't so? '
'Yes! But not so large as a mountain, perhaps, as a house.'
'It's hard to believe in that.
But here is the magic bridge, which we shall cross.
It is not worth for liars, in this spring
Two journalists and the tailor had fallen from it,
All the town was talking all about this.
So, cucumber with size as a house may be strange,
But bridge is also.' 'Oh, no.
Don't think that houses there are giant so.
If you try getting there inside, it only two like me will hold,
And it is hard here even to stand or seat! '
'Oh, let it be so. But taking matter this,
The cucumber, which two of men contains, is not so strange,
But if you take this bridge...
Where you even coudn't make five steps forward,
Then suddenly - you'll fall in water!
Oh, may be cucumber so queer, but...'
'Oh, please, stop', - thus the liar said, -
'Instead of going on bridge,
It's better looking for a ford! '

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* knyaz - the old russian name to prince or hertzog


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 19, 2012



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