Modest Mussorgsky , Kinderstube
Texti: Modest Mussorgsky
Der Käfer
Njanja, Njanjuschka ! denk wie schrecklich,
liebste Njanjuscka ! Sass und spielte
auf dem Sande, bei der Laube untern Birken,
baut ein Häuschen aus den schönen
Ahornspähnen, weisst du, die Mamachen
selber mir noch zugeschnitten.
Fertig war bereits das Häuschen,
mit ´nem Dach drauf, ganz ein richt‘ges
Häuschen....da! sitzt auf dem Giebel ein Käfer,
denk ! so‘n schwarzer, gross und dick –
fürchterlich, bewegt seinen Schnurrbart
immerzu und sieht fortwährend an mich böse!
O erschrak ich da! Und plötzlich brummt laut er...
breitet seine Flügel und auf mich zu fliegt er...
und einen Schlag versetzt an die Schläfe er mir!
Ich duckte nieder,Njanjuschka, und sass und
wagte kaum zu atmen! Mit einem Auge nur
schielte ich hin.. und denk nur! Was glaubst du,
Njanjuschka : Liegt der Käfer auf dem Rücken,
hält die Füsschen still gefalten,
ist nicht mehr böse, und bewegt nicht mehr
die Schnurrbart,und brummt auch nicht mehr,
nur die Flügeln beben leise. – Ob er tot ist ?
Oder sich verstellt bloss ?
Was ihm nur sein mag ?
Wie denkst du, Njanja ?
Was ihm nur sein mag?
Versetzt den Schlag mir, fällt dabei
selbst hin! Was ihm nur sein mag, dem Käfer?
Bjallan
Njanja, Njanjúska! Hugsaðu þér annað eins, elsku fóstra! Ég sat í sandinum og lék mér í laufinu undir birkitrénu og byggði mér lítið hús úr hlynviðarspítunum, þú veist, sem hún mamma sagaði til handa mér. Svo var húsið tilbúið, með þaki og alveg alvöru hús ! Situr þá ekki bjalla á mæninum, hugsaðu þér! Svona stór og svört og feit og hræðileg og hreyfir skeggið sitt stöðugt og horfir reiðilega á mig! Ó, hvað mér brá ! Allt í einu rymur bjallan hátt, breiðir út vængina og flýgur bara á mig – svo ég fæ högg á gagnaugað! Ég beygði mig niður, þorði varla að anda! Kíkti svo með einu auga.... og hvað heldurðu fóstra: Þarna lá þá bara bjallan afvelta og var ekkert reið lengur og hreyfði heldur ekki skeggið og rumdi ekki neitt – aðeins vængirnir tifuðu örlítið.- Var hún kannski dáin? Eða var hún að gabba mig ?Hvað var hún að hugsa? Hvað heldur þú Njanjúska? Hún lemur mig og dettur svo bara sjálf ! Hvað er hún að hugsa ?
Þýð. Elísabet Erlingsdóttir
The Beetle
Nursey, dear Nursey ! Think how awful, let me tell you ! On the grass I sat while playing, by the arbour near the birches, busy building such a pritty house of maple, with the pieces Mummy, Mummy dear herself had cut me.
Finished was my little cottage, with a roof on, like a proper cottage.. Then ! There came a beetle and sat on my roof, black one, thick and fat, his beard started wagging up and down, his wicked eyes were fixed upon me – I was so afraid !
And then he buzzed loudly.. spread his wings wide open and flew at me quickly.. And with a bound he hit me on my temple. So I bent down, then, Nurse, dear, sat still and hardly dared to breathe! One little peep I gave out of my eyes.. and listen, what do you think, Nursey?
On his back there lay the beetle, held both feet toogether folded, no longer angry, and his beard had stopped to waggle, no buzz left in him, just his wings could move a bit.
Was he dead then, or only foxing‘ What was he up to? oh tell me, Nursey ! What do you think now? A blow he gave me, perhaps his last one! What was he up to, that beetle ?
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