14-8-2004
Инна Львовна Лиснянская
Inna Lisnianskaya
(b. 1928)
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Слово, которое серебро, Все из шкатулки роздано. Хвораю, это значит ребро Болит, из коего создана.
За серебро не кори, Адам! Золота обручального Я с безымянного не отдам, Оно для житья молчального.
С этим колечком и схорони. А те, что люблю раздаривать Перстни серебряные, они Останутся разговаривать.
1997
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The word, which is silver, Is all given away out of the jewellery box I'm ailing, that means the rib Is hurting that I was created from.
Don't reproach me for the silver, Adam! The gold of the wedding (ring) I won't give away/let anyone take from my ring (finger) -- It's for the life that keeps silent.
Bury me with that ring, too. And the ones that I love to give away -- The silver rings, they Will stay behind to converse/hold conversations.
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Ода компьютеру
За тебя зеленых тыщу
Смысла облачное мясо,
Что мне деньги? Что мне слава,
Эхо, зеркало, посредник, 23 июля 1998.
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Ode to the Computer
For you, little friend, I gave thousands of greenbacks And made a green salad Of my stanzas’ last lines.
On the pithy meat of reason With rhyme as trimmings, From the last provisions you and I shall feast.
What do I care about money, Fame and magical pageants? You are the last distraction Of my century.
Echo, mirror, envoy, ghost and double, why have you come to trouble my last days?
translated by Ruth Fainlight
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Я – как земля:
скриплю, мечтая
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Like the earth turning, I creak, and dream Of a return to the Garden of Eden Where reptiles, people, birds and beasts, As I recall, were always glad to meet.
translated by Ruth Fainlight
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ТРИПТИХ ОТРАЖЕНИЯ 1 Вся жизнь твоя - остроугольник И нарциссические грезы В окно гостиничного типа, 2 Я - отраженье всех зеркальных Я даже крышкою рояля И в этом не было бы драмы, 3 Неизвестно, кто и в чем Постарайся не глядеть Зеркало, где бытие - 1997
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Triptych of Reflection
1 Your whole life is a parallelogram without bisectors. A superannuated schoolboy brought you daffodils,
and spring-flower reveries revived in you. You smoke, not changing position in an official armchair.
The lime-tree breathes its bribe of honey into existence through a hotel window like the venom of fame —- or a life without limits.
2 I am the reflection of every mirror- like, living and unliving, animate and inanimate thing: brooks and basin-taps, paradisal wings and infernal polished relics.
I reflect like the lid of a grand piano, like a negative, and my universal sorrows scarcely belong to me. They are only a reflected myth.
In this there would be no drama if I could crawl out of the annular iambic pit where there are no reverses or angles, and amalgams of Spring blur the surface of the glass.
3 How can one know Who is reflected into the world And if this reflects well or badly Into your heart.
Try hard not to look At anything that shines: Not foil nor tin nor copper, Not even into the mirror
Hanging here, where life Exists like a heart grown quiet, where all my verses Come now to die.
translated by Ruth Fainlight
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The last 3 poems from Modern Poetry in Translation New Series n.º 20, Edited by Daniel Weissbort, Guest Editor Valentina Polukhina, King's College, London, University of London, 2002 ISBN 0-9533824-8-6 |