It is midnight here. I was sitting very sad and lonely and started to read this thread. Long ago we all had great time, posting , translating and enjoing great russian poetry. I remembered all our friends who took part of this , I will say, pleasant project, Great job was done by my dear Slavica, Cyrano, Duda, Mella, Terra and many others, who contributed their precious time to post and read wonderful poems here. I was just wondering how we could forget about this forum and stop writing. Don't you think it would be lovely to see new poems here?
I am just thinking that in our busy life it is always good idea to read something nice, which brings pleasure, as we Russians say 'Dlya dushi' - 'For our soul'.
Wouldn't be nice to read poems from other languages and their translations in Turkish?
Once we were doing this, why not to continue that and share our favourite poems.
I will start here with one.
To the Muse
My sister Muse looked at my face,
Her gaze was clear and bright.
She took my golden ring away -
First present of that spring.
Muse! Do you see their happiness?
Girls, widows, wives.
I would rather die on the rack,
But not these bounds of iron.
Guessing, I tear the petals
From the gentle daisy flower.
All of us on this earth
Must know the torture of love.
Until dawn, my candle burns on a windowsill
And I miss no one.
But, I don't, don't, don't want to
Know how the other woman is kissed.
Tomorrow, laughing, the mirror will say
'Your gaze is not clear, not bright'
I will answer quietly: 'She took
My gift from God away.
Translated by Eric Gillan
Музе
Муза-сестра заглянула в лицо,
Взгляд ее ясен и ярок.
И отняла золотое кольцо,
Первый весенний подарок.
Муза! ты видишь, как счастливы все -
Девушки, женщины, вдовы...
Лучше погибну на колесе,
Только не эти оковы.
Знаю: гадая, и мне обрывать
Нежный цветок маргаритку.
Должен на этой земле испытать
Каждый любовную пытку.
Жгу до зари на окошке свечу
И ни о ком не тоскую,
Но не хочу, не хочу, не хочу
Знать, как целуют другую.
Завтра мне скажут, смеясь, зеркала:
'Взор твой не ясен, не ярок...'
Тихо отвечу: 'Она отняла
Божий подарок'.
10 ноября 1911
Царское Село
Anna Akhmatova
|