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kto biegle zna ang.?
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masza
Jun 13, 2014, 3:06:57 PM6/13/14
to
zna tutaj ktos angielski biegle? Mam pewien wiersz (skomplikowany raczej...)
do leksykalnego przetlumaczenia na pl, czyli nie chodzi o super tlumaczenie,
wrecz przeciwnie: po kazdej ang. linijce - potoczne tlumaczenie. Są chetni z
biegłym ang. ? :)
do leksykalnego przetlumaczenia na pl, czyli nie chodzi o super tlumaczenie,
wrecz przeciwnie: po kazdej ang. linijce - potoczne tlumaczenie. Są chetni z
biegłym ang. ? :)
Marcin Mały
Jun 13, 2014, 3:49:18 PM6/13/14
to
Daj po prostu ten wiersz.
Jak nie przetłumaczymy, to chociaż sobie poczytamy.
:)
> zna tutaj ktos angielski biegle?
--
http://www.anglista.edu.pl
Jak nie przetłumaczymy, to chociaż sobie poczytamy.
:)
> zna tutaj ktos angielski biegle?
http://www.anglista.edu.pl
masza
Jun 13, 2014, 4:03:04 PM6/13/14
to
Marcin Ma�y in news:op.xher0gaasllwoy@marcin-ubuntu
> :)
http://movehimintothesun.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/break-of-day-in-the-trenches-isaac-rosenberg/
The darkness crumbles away.
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your Cosmopolitan sympathies.
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver-what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in man's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe-
Just a little white with the dust.
> Daj po prostu ten wiersz.
> Jak nie przet�umaczymy, to chocia� sobie poczytamy.
> :)
http://movehimintothesun.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/break-of-day-in-the-trenches-isaac-rosenberg/
The darkness crumbles away.
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
As I pull the parapet's poppy
To stick behind my ear.
Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew
Your Cosmopolitan sympathies.
Now you have touched this English hand
You will do the same to a German
Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure
To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass
Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes,
Less chanced than you for life,
Bonds to the whims of murder,
Sprawled in the bowels of the earth,
The torn fields of France.
What do you see in our eyes
At the shrieking iron and flame
Hurled through still heavens?
What quaver-what heart aghast?
Poppies whose roots are in man's veins
Drop, and are ever dropping;
But mine in my ear is safe-
Just a little white with the dust.
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