Text 2. Перевод поэтического произведения с английского языка на русский
J КОНКУРС ПЕРЕВОДОВ ! J J TRANSLATION CONTEST! J J ÜBERSETZERWETTBEWERB! J
J CONCORSO DI TRADUZIONE J
Поволжский Православный Институт приглашает студентов и школьников принять участие в XVIIIРЕГИОНАЛЬНОМ КОНКУРСЕ ПЕРЕВОДОВ произведений на материале английского, немецкого, итальянского и русского языков (тексты прилагаются к приглашению);
& Материал:
для перевода предлагаются оригинальные произведения современных английских, итальянских и немецких авторов, публицистические тексты. Участник конкурса имеет право выбора количества текстов – на конкурс можно представить от 1 до 7 переводов.
* Требования к оформлению:
переводы и сочинения должны быть набраны на компьютере с
указанием автора работы и учебного заведения. Необходимо указать контактный телефон, Ф.И.О. учителя. Работы высылаются по электронной почте ppi-lingvo@mail.ru. Формат текста: Word for Windows, шрифт: размер -14; интервал - 1,5, тип - Times New Roman.
¸ Сроки выполнения работ :
переводы и сочинения должны быть предоставлены не позднее 25 декабря 2018 г. на E-mail ppi-lingvo@mail.ru. По результатам вышеназванных конкурсов будут определены победители и выданы дипломы, сертификаты и благодарственные письма.
& Награждение
состоится в феврале 2019 г. по адресу Юбилейная 4А.
YOU ARE WELCOME!!!
WIR WARTEN AUF SIE!!!
МЫ ЖДЕМ ВАС !!!
VI ASPETTIAMO!!!
Поволжский Православный Институт приглашает учащихся 10 – 11 классов принять участие в Олимпиаде по иностранному языку (английский язык, немецкий язык, итальянский язык) в формате подготовки к ЕГЭ. Олимпиада состоится ориентировочно 14-15 ноября 2018 г. в 16.00 по адресу Юбилейная 4А. Просьба отправить списки участников до 09 ноября на E-mail:
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ppi-lingvo@mail.ru
Приложение
Text 1. Перевод художественного произведения с английского языка на русский
Algernon - Besides, your name isn't Jack at all; it is Ernest.
Jack. - It isn't Ernest; its Jack.
Algernon - You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to everyone as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn't Ernest. It’s on your cards. Here is one of them. (Taking it from case.) Mr. Ernest Worthing, B. 4, The Albany. I'll keep this as a proof that your name is Ernest if ever you attempt to deny it to me, or to Gwendolen, or to anyone else. (Puts the card in his pocket.)
Jack - Well, my name is Ernest in town and Jack in the country, and the cigarette case was given to me in the country.
Algernon - Yes, but that does not account for the fact that your small Aunt Cecily, who lives at Tunbridge Wells, calls you her dear uncle. Come, old boy, you had much better have the thing out at once.
Jack. - My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if you were a dentist. It is very vulgar to talk like a dentist when one isn't a dentist. It produces a false impression,
Algernon - Well, that is exactly what dentists always do. Now, go on! Tell me the whole thing. I may mention that I have always suspected you of being a confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I am quite sure of it now.
Jack - Bunburyist? What on earth do you mean by a Bunburyist?
Algernon - I'll reveal to you the meaning of that incomparable expression as soon as you are kind enough to inform me why you are Ernest in town and Jack in the country.
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Jack - My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about my explanation at all. In fact it’s perfectly ordinary. Old Mr. Thomas Cardew, who adopted me when I was a little boy, made me in his will guardian to his grand-daughter, Miss Cecily Cardew. Cecily, who addresses me as her uncle from motives of respect that you could not possibly appreciate, lives at my place in the country under the charge of her admirable governess, Miss Prism.
Algernon - Where in that place in the country, by the way?
Jack - That is nothing to you, dear boy. You are not going to be invited... I may tell you candidly that the place is not in Shropshire.
Algernon - I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed all over Shropshire on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in town and Jack in the country?
Jack - My dear Algy, I don't know whether you will be able to understand my real motives. You are hardly serious enough. When one is placed in the position of guardian, one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all subjects. Its ones duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to either ones health or ones happiness, in order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes. That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple.
Algernon - The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility!
Jack - That wouldn't be at all a bad thing.
Algernon - Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow. Don't try it. You should leave that to people who haven't been at a University. They do it so well in the daily papers. What you really are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were a Bunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know.
Jack. - What on earth do you mean?
Algernon - You have invented a very useful younger brother called Ernest, in order that you may be able to come up to town as often as you like. I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn't for Bunburys extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with you at Willis's to-night, for I have been really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more than a week.
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Jack - I haven't asked you to dine with me anywhere to-night.
Algernon - I know. You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations. It is very foolish of you. Nothing annoys people so much as not receiving invitations.
Jack - You had much better dine with your Aunt Augusta.
Text 2. Перевод поэтического произведения с английского языка на русский
Words
by Patience Worth
What futile things are words!
But dust of the Desert of Thought,
Blown willy-nilly;
And he who would enslave them,
Marking indelibly the pith of his being
Upon the atoms, must first walk
With bare feet the searing sand of day;
And e'er he catch the dust
Of that magic desert, spill from his heart
A little of its crimson fount,
Else tomorrow's wind shall find
But more dust, yea, more confusion!
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