𝕵𝖔𝖍𝖆𝖓 ⛧ @johan@qoto.org

@lina@mastodon.ml

#NeuralNetwork #перевод #лирика
Сейчас парочка без загадок, оригинальный текст сразу внизу.

Every evening, when the world seems mad,
Which is, in fact, every night we've had,
Do this simple thing, if you want to wake up,
Show yourself some mercy, before you give up.

Sit in front of the TV, turn the volume down,
And repeat this phrase, without a frown,
"These are not my monkeys, this is not my circus,"
My acquaintance once said, in a moment of purpose.

He wasn't a fool, he was either a Pole or a Lithuanian,
One night he appeared in my dream, not as an alien,
Just a little tipsy, but he spoke the truth,
"These are not my monkeys, this is not my circus," he soothed.

Don't look for logic in the events of life,
It wasn't designed to have any, it's full of strife,
The world is built on two pillars: misunderstanding and fighting,
It's always been so, it's not surprising.

And since you're the only one here from Alpha Centauri,
This mantra will be your guard, it's not a fairy story,
"These are not my monkeys, this is not my circus," you'll say,
And be free from the chaos, come what may.

And ever since, if the west crawls to the east,
If the smell of garbage tries to disguise as a fragrant feast,
I won't feel horror or delight in the least,
I'll just say, "These are not my monkeys,this is not my circus."

If you're going to climb, then climb the cosmic tree,
Look from above, with a sharp eye, and you'll see,
The world's ocean, from shore to shore,
A floating theater of the absurd, with no rhyme or reason anymore.

Whether it's people, slogans, beliefs or countries,
All of them are just part of the show, with no guarantees,
So say it out loud, and say it with ease,
"These are not my monkeys, this is not my circus," and be at peace.

As for the screaming and shouting, they're just toasting their drink,
And at their smoked homes, they have their own cozy nesting,
And those birds circling over the field, they're just singing,
Nightingales, with no need for any explaining.

And now I see it differently, with a new state of mind:
That was my circus, and all the monkeys are mine,

=============

Каждый вечер, когда тебе кажется, что мир свихнулся –
то есть, собственно, каждый вечер –
делай эту процедуру, если хочешь, чтоб и завтра проснулся.
Пожалей себя: ты не вечен.
Сядь напротив телевизора, выключи громкость и повторяй, не сводя глаз с экрана:
"это – не мой цирк; это – не мои обезьяны".

Так говорил мой знакомец, он был не дурак,
а не то литовец, не то поляк,
он однажды приснился мне – просто так,
чуть спьяну:
"это – не мой цирк; это – не мои обезьяны".

Не ищи ты логики в происходящих событиях –
её там не положили.
Мир построен на двух китах: непонимании и мордобитии,
мы всегда на Земле так жили.
А раз ты один тут с Альфы Центавра, вот и мантра – твоя охрана:
"это – не мой цирк; это – не мои обезьяны".

И с тех пор, если запад ползёт на восток,
если мусорный запах, хоть с виду цветок –
я ни ужас испытывать, ни восторг
не стану:
"это – не мой цирк; это – не мои обезьяны".

Если лезть – то по-настоящему, на вселенское дерево,
ловчее глядеть отсюда,
мировой океан просматривается от берега и до берега,
плавучий театр абсурда.
На одно лицо и люди, и лозунги, и верованья, и страны:
это – не мой цирк; это – не мои обезьяны.

А что там кричат - они заздравную пьют.
А у них там чад - так то домашний уют.
А что птицы над полем кружат - то поют
соловьи.
Это был мой цирк, и все обезьяны - мои.

© Эли "Хатуль" Бар-Яалом
https://imenno.livejournal.com/

По-моему, вообще мощно (чутка поправил буквально несколько строк).

#NeuralNetwork #загадка #лирика

Warm and cozy, we're inside,
Our footprints on the outside hide.
With stardust on our boots and shoes,
We snuggle up in plaid, with nothing to lose.

The trigger we forgot to press,
The sunny day we now confess,
Has taken us into its sweet embrace,
As we dream away in its warm space.

#NeuralNetwork #загадка
ШТОШ, как вариант на самом деле имеет место быть:

Recently I met him, my childhood kin,
We looked, grinned, and had some gin.
"How are you?" he asked with care,
"I rule the world with a kind heart, so rare.
I'm good and slightly whimsical,
But not scary anymore, it's comical."
White river, drops of the past,
Oh river-hand, lead me fast.
I'm drowning, in these little things,
You're a glass on the table, you're wings.