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Poetry: "Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas ‖ Sir Anthony Hopkins
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- čas přidán 11. 10. 2019
- "Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
The night above the dingle starry,
Time let me hail and climb
Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
Trail with daisies and barley
Down the rivers of the windfall light.
And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.
All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.
And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.
And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.
• ────────────────────────────────── •
Páfránydomb - Nagy László fordítása
Még ifjú voltam, könnyed szív az almafák tövén,
Daloló ház körül vidám, ha már zöldellt a fű,
S a völgybe lógtak csillag-éjek.
Fölhágnom aranylón
Hagyott az idő, a sugár-szemű,
Szekéren almavárosok hercege voltam én,
S mint hadvezér dicsőn vezényeltem egy szép napon
A lombot, árpát, százszorszépet
Tova a széllel-ömlő fény-folyón.
Még zöld vagyok, a gondtól száz, csűrök közt hírhedett,
Éneklek boldog udvaron, s major az otthonom.
Az egyetlenszer ifjú napban
A nagyirgalmú sors
Aranylón élni engedett.
Én zöld vadász, arany gulyás, tinóm riogatom,
Kürtömtől hegyi róka-had hidegen fölcsahol, s:
a szent folyón az ünnep lassan
Tovavonul csörgetve kövecset.
A nappal csupa futkosás s pozsgás derű, a rét
Boglyai mint a ház, a kémény-zene gyönyörű,
És játék, csupa lucskos harmat,
És tűz, zöld mint a fű,
És esténként jámbor csillagok,
S míg hazahajtok, a majort a bagoly hordja szét,
Látom a holdon át: lappantyú száll, az éj-sűrű
Kazal repül, s paripa hajzat
villámként felragyog.
Fehér az ébredés, a major harmat-ragyogó,
Vándorként megtér, hars kakast hoz válla tűzfalán,
Fénykertben Ádám s szűze trónol,
Az égbolt újra egy,
Épp most kerekült ki a napgolyó,
A fény hajdani születése így történt talán.
Forog a tér s meleg patásan fénymezőkre megy
Nyihogó smaragd istállóból
Megbűvölten a ló.
Boldog vagyok, fácánok, rókák pázsitán dicső
Vadonatúj felhők közén a szív tágul s virul,
A folyton megszülető napban
Futkosok oktalan,
Füvek fölött ábránd hajt magasan,
Azúr munkámnak élek, s nem fáj, hogy zeng az idő,
Fordul sokat s keveset ád s a gyermek majd kihull
Irgalmából, dalolva lassan,
Zölden, aranyosan.
Nem bántam én, hogy az idő, a báránykafehér
Napokból kezem árnyát fogva fecske-mennybe von,
A hatalmasra növő holdba,
s hogy míg hazafelé
Hajtok: hallom, a föld, s idő elrepül,
S rávirradok: örökre eltűnt gyermek és major.
Ó, ifjú voltam, áldott szív, s az idő végzetül
Megtartott zölden s haldokolva,
Mert láncban is tengerként zengtem én!
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wonderfully musical
Thank u for posting. My fave poem. My fave actor
A masterpiece and my favourite poem.
Your voice is heaven to me
Beautiful pluperfect poem; lovely voice
My favourite poem but a bit too fast. Every word must be savoured. Reminds me of my grandmothers home in Dunvant where I was born and the idyllic holidays I had there from a bomb blasted London. All built up now. My great grandfather knew Dylan!s father, they were both schoolmasters at the same time in Swansea. I met Dylan once in strange circumstances and I will always remember that mop of curls and the chubby face.
Artists are magical presences that leave their message.
Like the child, he forgets to savor the words until he gets to the end. But then, that’s the point, isn’t it?
Penblwydd hapus Dylan Marlais Thomas, born on October 27, 1914, at 5 Cwmdonkin Drive in Swansea.
Just play it at 0.75x speed and it’s perfect.
Shouldn't have to! Thanks.
Words can never describe the awe I feel when I hear this man's voice
Great 👍
Che classe.
Two legendary Welshmen
It is only my humble opinion,that this should be read much more slowly,allowing its essence to be taken and better understood.
Bliss
A little too fast, but emphatic.
try .75 playback speed in the settings, it will be distorted, but probably closer to how you want to hear it.
Yes. In the last two stanzas he catches the pace and the nearly in heaven glory just right
This is too fast, and not refletive enough. I would like to hear Michael Sheen read it.
Kate I loved it with a tear in my eye .
He was absolutely the best choice to read this 🎉
This is one that only Dylan himself does well.
As a contrast, try listening to Richard Burton’s recording. I prefer it.
Good God! Was the man in a hurry to get home for his tea? I know Burton and Thomas himself sound overblown and pompous, slow and even ridiculous to some modern ears but this is a heedless trampling. To my ear at least.
Lack of emotion and feeling in the words and consumed too fast. A bit like Hannibal Lector! I'm a big fan of Anthony's by the way.
Too fast
Awful