2024.05.01.
Marina Tsvetayeva - Деревья (Derevʹya) dalszöveg fordítás angol nyelvre
Translation
Trees
1
In dead ones believing,
I do not try to be spellbound.
In ancient heather,
In silver-sliding dry land,
Let pipers with trumpets
Glory to my shade beam!
In heather-losses,
In heather-dry streams.
Ancient heather!
Growth on the naked stone!
In our orphanage's identity
Having assured and known,
Bits of the final brocade
Having lost and taken away -
In heather-ruin,
In heather-streams turned dry.
Two-minded friendships
And choking of ugliness, life.
With heat and dryness,
(For severe is the chief),
Higher, where mountain-ash
Comelier than King David is!
In heather-gray spots,
In heather-dry seas.
2
When incensed soul
Drunk on insult became,
When to fight demons
She vowed seven times,
Not with the ones, with fiery rains
Flushed into the abyss:
With earthly lowness of days,
With people's bigotries -
Trees! I come to you! To be saved
From market cry!
As heart is inspired by your
Wavings up high!
God-wrestling oak! Into war
With its root marches!
Willows - my prophetesses!
Virgin-birches!
Pine standing in torture,
Elm - wrathful Absalom,
The bitterness of ashberry,
My lips' psalm:
To you! Into live-flowing mercury
Of leaves - crumbling although!
To fling open the arms!
The manuscripts to throw!
The swarms of green reflections...
Like ones weaving arms!
My bare-headed ones,
My trembling ones!
3
To swimmers, in a light circle
Having been beaten -
A flock of guardian nymphs - suddenly,
The mantles sweeping
A scroll is unrolled – a back they throw
The foreheads and hands
In dance that with defensive blow
Will suddenly end -
A long arm put on the thigh...
Drawing out, I scream...
A silver of birches,
Living streams!
4
Friends! Brotherly multitude!
You, whose waving blows away
The trace of earthly insult. Forest! -
Elysium mine!
A drinking buddy of souls
In friendships' loud band -
Having chosen being sober, day
In quiet brotherhood I will end.
Ah, from a stomping crowd
In light sacrificial fire
Of groves! In great stillness of
Moss! In the current of pines...
The wise tiding of tree! Wood
Prophetic, over the sheer
Gnarling of curves,
Is the perfect life here:
Where there's no slavery or deformities,
There, where all is its height,
There, where truth's better seen:
On the days' another side...
5
Refugees? Messengers?
Respond if you are alive!
The monks on horseback,
Having seen God in groves?
How many sandals are running?
How many buildings are on fire?
How many hounds and deer
In the runaway of trees?
Forest! You're now a rider!
What people disease
Call: is the last
Convulsion of trees -
This - Is a teen in a
Wide dress with nectar fed.
This - at once uprooted
Is the wood!
No, another, not flakes
In a day - leafed flood
I see: spears headlong
I see: murmur of blood!
And flying as an upturned
Junk heap - who could have seen?
That is Saul after David:
With his death that is tan.
6
Not with paint or with brush!
Light - his kingdom, it's gray.
Here light violates color
The red leaves - a lie.
Color, with light violated.
Light - to fight color on breast.
Is not in this secret
The essence and strength
Of autumn forest?
Over the quiet creek of days
Like curtain was torn -
And behind it's scary...
Through chasuble of parting
Like seeing a son -
And suddenly words rise:
Elysium and Palestine.
A stream... a draft...
Through tremblings small part -
Light, better than death -
And - connection's cut.
------------------
The autumn grayness,
You, apotheosis of Goethe!
Much was sung here
And was unbound still more.
Thus light the gray spots:
Thus family heads - of the son
Last out of seven
The final, very last one
Into the last doors -
With rubbed-through light of hands...
(I don't trust paint! Here
Purple - is last of servants!)
Not with light already:
They shimmer with some kind of light...
Not in this or the other -
And the connection is cut.
-----------------
Thus the deserts are lighting
And - I said more than I could:
Cupolas of Elysium
And Palestine's sand.
7
She woke up and stands
Who slept without dreaming -
In psalm’s strict gradualness,
With rock of seeing -
The multitudes of bodies that awaken -
Hands! Hands! Hands!
Like warriors under the hail of arrows,
Ripe for torments.
Scrolls of the falling into ashes
Chasubles, see-through like nets.
The old ones’ lashes,
(Of Virgins!) – and not
Knowing shame, and hands…
Prophesying – birds!
A horse cart on the pipe of court!
Body till the loins
Having wheedled from coffin wraps -
Gray-bearded flight:
Being! - Transportation! - Legion!
Entire tribe
Of refugees! - On dearness and rage!
Remember! - Be! - See!
In the evening, on the hill,
Several trees.
8
Someone is driving - to deadly victory.
Trees have the gestures of tragedy.
Jews - the secret dance! The trees
Have the quivers of mystery.
This - is a conspiracy against century:
Weight, count, time, fractions.
This - is a torn curtain:
Trees have coffins’ gestures.
Someone's riding. Sky - entry is.
Triumphal gestures have the trees.
9
With what inspiration,
With what truths of God,
Of what you sound,
The leaves' floods?
With what frantic
Sevillian secrets -
Of what you sound,
Of what forget?
What's in your fanning?
I know - you heal
Time's insult with
Eternity's chill.
But as a young genius having
Risen - you decry
With finger of absence
The beholding's lie,
That once anew, like never,
The earth to us did seem.
That underneath the eyelids
Took place conspiracies.
That with money of wonder
You would not show off, please!
That underneath the eyelids
Took place the mysteries!
And from strength away!
And from urgency away!
Into the flood! - In prophecies
With indirect speeches.
Canopy with - leaves?
Did moan Seville?
Avalanches of leaves,
Ruins of leaves...
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