и снова опера

[jetta-e]

И еще один перевод арии из "Легенды о принце" на английский

"Галерея"
Переводчик - edik_lyudoedik

To you my greetings, Lords of Ancient Times,
Tyrans and heroes, all in equal shares!
This castle's stones remember horrid crimes
And virtues that prevail against the years.

The ghosts of history that languish in the gloom
Have brought the wind to blow off dusty stories
Of precious past: so, each of you ignores
Your heir. And shall you tell my doom?

When judgement hour is struck upon my fate,
Shall I remain myself or be your mate?

To you my greetings, vehement sovereign,
Who wasted all the power and empire
And by his victims was at last betrayed
And brought to death by self-ignited fire.

You, after being torn and scattered long,
Have not been subject to the mourns and prayers.
No speeches, no death offerings and songs,
Remains of yours weren't buried; no one cares.

So please, forsee and tell through distant past
Shall I become your image in the glass?

To you I bow, you ruled in times of change,
And you were worshipped all around the planet.
You ordered blood and leaded to revenge
In epochs three times changed and wars declared.

But why your face is restless and upset,
What's in your mind and what your heart desires?
Your crown's useless weight upon your head
And you have nobody to trust with the Empire.

And you're numb. I know the reason, why
The lot of yours I cannot now envy.

Now it's your turn. You made your fame despise,
A single battle once to boost your odor.
But game was lost, before you realized,
You rested in your triumphant dishonor.

So much for fame, so much for shining star.
Your name remained; your doings never known.
Now, will you tell me, how at Escobar
The Betans knocked you off and crushed your crown?

Why don't you speak, I see through your disguise:
You cannot ever look into my eyes.