Колеги с английски, моля Ви, ако можете, помогнете!
Трябва ми на АНГЛ. !

Хвалу и клевету приемли равнодушно,
И не оспаривай глупца.

/А.С.Пушкин, «Памятник» (1836)/
*
Това ли е ? : /намерих го след много дирене в гугъл, предполагам, че е това, което ми трябва, но не знам английски и само предполагам!/

Receive with indifference both flattery and slander,
And do not argue with a fool.

/ще се чете от учител по английски език - не е за други нужди!/

Редактирано от Ja на 27.03.08 22:15.

Да, точно това е. Ето и цялото стихотворение:

Exegi monumentum


A monument, unforged, I for myself erected.
A common path to it will not be ever lost,
And its unheedful head reigns higher than respected,
The known Alexandrian Post.


I shall not die a whole, but in the tokened lyre
My soul will outlive my flesh and won't decay.
I will be honoured till in underlunar sphere
Lives my like who has much to say.


A word about me will over Russia scatter.
Its every tongue will be to me a proud chap,
A son of Slavs, a Finn, and presently unlettered
Tungus, a Kalmyk — friend to steppes.


For long I shall be held endeared to the mortals
For kindness that my lyre was often to unfold,
Because in our cruel age I've shown freedom's portals,
For pardon to the fallen called.


To godly will, oh muse, be a compliant tool;
Not pleading for a wreath, not fearing an insult,
To praise and to disdain be absolutely cold,
And never argue with a fool.

An untranslatable text would be a Chinese proverb scribbled on the back of a raging tiger.

В бързината съм ви копирал друг преводен вариант на стихотворението на английски.

Exegi Monumentum

I have erected a monument to myself
Not built by hands; the track of it, though trodden
By the people, shall not become overgrown,
And it stands higher than Alexander's column.

I shall not wholly die. In my sacred lyre
My soul shall outlive my dust and escape corruption--
And I shall be famed so long as underneath
The moon a single poet remains alive.

I shall be noised abroad through all great Russia,
Her innumerable tongues shall speak my name:
The tongue of the Slavs' proud grandson, the Finn, and now
The wild Tungus and Kalmyk, the steppes' friend.

In centuries to come I shall be loved by the people
For having awakened noble thoughts with my lyre,
For having glorified freedom in my harsh age
And called for mercy towards the fallen.

Be attentive, Muse, to the commandments of God;
Fearing no insult, asking for no crown,
Receive with indifference both flattery and slander,
And do not argue with a fool.

An untranslatable text would be a Chinese proverb scribbled on the back of a raging tiger.

Много благодаря!