Волохонский, Волков, Фёдоров - Джойс - Part 4 - текст песни, слова, перевод, видео

So (in order not to run after the Tree Iris and Lily O'Rangan) starting the discussion about the genesis of the professional nickname of Harold or Humphrey Chimpden (we return to the question of the first nicknames of the prototoptal period, naturally, precisely at the time when Enos chalked rags) first of all, let us once and for all reject the theories of early sources that connect him with such basic figures as the Gluses, Graves, Northists and Ankers with the Erikers (Earwigs) from Sidleshem, which is in the People's Land, or declare him a scion of the Vikings who founded the district, and place him in Eirike or in Irik, according to the most authentic version of Damlet, read the Readings of Hofed-ben-Edar, who presents it in exactly this way. But we are also told how the aged gardener, who was reciting like Cincinnatus, was stocking up on the bright light under a tree with wood reddened by tension on a sweaty Saturday afternoon on the eve of the holiday of Hag Chinook, anticipating a heavenly rest from cultivating roots in the garden behind the den, i.e. behind the building of the ancient sea den, when the skinner announced aloud his expression of royal satisfaction in his intention to linger on the high road along which the free lick was moving, and behind him - also at a leisurely pace - followed a strolling pack of rebels. Forgetting all but the simple vassalage of the ethnarch, Humphrey or Harold neither saddled nor harnessed himself, but crawled forth as he was (his sweaty polka-dotted handkerchief hanging from his pocket cape) hurrying to the front yard of his establishment, in his helmet and girth, in his sun scarf and plaid, plus two pairs of gaiters and bulldogs, dyed vermilion by the blazing soil, jingling with revolving keys, and carrying aloft between the upraised tips of his hunting retinue a high perch, on the top of which was carefully fixed a flowerpot raised from the ground. Here his Majesty, who from his tender youth had been, or simply pretended to be, very perceptive, meaning to investigate what exactly had led to him looking like a hole in a pot, asked, substituting one word for another, to explain whether, as he put it, "the paternoster and doctors in silver" (a jig with shiny lures) did not now serve as a more sophisticated bait for catching crayfish, but the simple and honest Haromfrid answered in a tone that did not admit of doubt and was close to fearless impudence: No, ash lichst, I once wanted to get the iriki (meaning earwigs). Our royal navigator, gurgling and rumbled with gusto as he emptied a vessel that looked like distilled aqua, paused in his sip, grinned heartily from under his walrus moustache, and condescendingly, with that not overly ingenious kind of humor that William Nose had inherited along the spindle line from his great-aunt Sophie, along with a certain short-fingeredness, addressed the servants of the retinue: Michael, the Lord Regent of Leix and Offaly, and the Jubilee Mayor of Drogheda, Elcher (according to a later version, given by the learned scholarch Pogrevoz Pogremushev, these two libertines were in fact Michael M. Manning, the proto-Syndic of Waterford, and the Italian lordship of Jubilee, in both cases they constituted a three-dimensional religious community, symbolizing the purity of doctrine, everyday deeds, and three-ha-ha in the boorish region, where the beauties grow, falling down the stairs, remarkably still flogged): Our red-haired relative from Leukapia - after all, he did not hear the scum of the grave of St. Ouvert, but did he know that for the spheres of reliability of spheres of competence we have such a plot from under the gates that the dust-eared frivolities are found in it no less often than the earwigs! (i.e., the erikers). With this he dragged himself every morning to the court of Jom-Pila. (To this day we hear the living-pink jepidzhep, the wooden chuckle from the roadside bush that Mrs. Holmpatrick grew, and the mossy silence on the lekking stone is still felt: Iv mi u Bourne). The question arises whether the facts of his pagan noble naming are such as they are recorded and consecrated in both or in each of the adjacent andropaulomorphic descriptions. Is it their fates that we read in the Sibyl between "fas" and "nefas"? Is there no dung on the road? And should Nohomia become ours?