Not for the wind. Not for faith.
Not for tetanus. Not for witchcraft. Not for the flu.
It is magnificently
Unnecessary
Harassed by predators,
A man lies in a field, neglected
Not a ploughman, not a go-getter,
Not a warrior and not a defender
Of his country –
A man lies in a field,
Down in a valley
Flat.
It would be good
To bring fire,
Or the holy spirit or sunshine
For him,
Knocked off
Pointlessly, in vain
Good to bring fire,
Black, cheerful, gypsy fire,
Like these black eyes,
Extinguished, passionate
----------
Ни ветра. Ни веры.
Ни столбняка. Ни помела. Ни стужи.
Великолепная
Ненужность
Хищными существами заклеванный,
Человек в поле лежит, оплеванный
Не пахарь. Не ухарь,
Не воин и не защитник
Родины -
Человек в поле лежит,
Среди долины
Ровныя
Огня бы,
Духа святаго иль дня бы
Хорошего -
Этому, нипочем зря
Укокошенному
Огня бы -
Черного, веселого, цыганского,
Как очи эти черные,
Потухшие, страстные
-------
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I never really learned how to decipher poetry like this. Care to share the meaning?
ReplyDeleteA man has met his demise in a field, but what was unnecessary? Was he the victim of a senseless murder? I enjoy the images you paint in the 4th and 5th stanzas. Please decode this for me.
Thank you, Pablo. No murder, crime, etc...This is a bit exaggerated image/picture/metaphor of uselessness of human being, or - of
ReplyDeletea feeling to be useless/abandoned...
Slava, it seems poetry is immensely arbitrary... like a work of art that needs to be explained by its creator, or else can equally be interpreted in diverse yet unique ways by others. Poetry is a universe!
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