Also in Poetry:

penelope_unraveling_her_work_at_night__met_ada6426-1
Embroidered panel: Penelope Unraveling Her Work at Night, 1886
Elena Laptinskaya. Two Poems. Translations by Dmitri Manin and Simon Patlis

 
1

Iโ€™m taking a Peneloping test,

One-two-three and bingo, you are impressed:

I’m almost there.

Iโ€™m faithful and thoroughly patient, nothing upsets

My even temper.

My Odysseus had two missuses and a bunch of kids,

My Odysseus kept making dangerous bids,

He would die if he couldn’t scale peak after peak:

The wind and the sea, triumph and Troy โ€“

He’s not unique.

My Odysseus was wounded in a random fray,

He was heading down the Styx to the realm of the dead,

But no one went looking for him, no one:

Not his wives, nor his daughter, his beauty and pride,

Nor the worthiest of all men,

His son.

My Odysseus was left without a dime,

In fact, he had nothing left,

Nothing remained of his youthful time,

Just belief in himself.

And when he came to, alive and broke,

He breathed out, breathed in and set out to find:

His bow and arrows, Penelope, hearth smoke,

Clean sheets, watermelons, the home heโ€™d left behind.

He would miss none of the roadside inns and taverns,

Heโ€™d left all heโ€™d had to the Jews:

His rings, his sword and belt.

Thus he picked wisdom from Jews in his travels,

But he never learned to hold on to what he was dealt.

Iโ€™m taking a Peneloping test,

Weaving plain cloth, baking bread โ€“

Almost there, it seems.

I can wait here for the second flood to crest

And my land to become the Ithaca of his dreams.

I know: Penelope had jewelry of the Hellenes,

Bracelets, necklaces, bedsheets with a fancy weave,

She had an expansive field

Growing watermelons.

But what do I haveโ€ฆ
 
Translated from Russian by Dmitri Manin
 
 
2
 
They filled my ears with slanderous venom,

I accepted all their gifts.

Thus, in a myth the proud Arachne

Weaved her stupendous tapestries
 

To no avail: her woven wonders

Did not save the worlds of golden dreams.

Thick cobwebs filled the air between us,

So you and I could hardly breathe.

 
Wasn’t it just like when divine Medea,

Poisoned with jealousy and rage,

To spite her cheating husband Jason,

Murdered her children in revenge?

 
I empathize with epic heroes,

Yet nowโ€”โ€”where is that ancient Greece?

Nor had I ever found Jesus,

Who could have brought me back my peace.

 
I won’t disturb your quiet slumber;

My torn-to-pieces bleeding soul

Was carried low by an angel,

Above the ground, very low.
 
Translated from Russian by Simon Patlis
 
 
The Originals
 
1
 
ะฏ ัะดะฐัŽ ัะบะทะฐะผะตะฝ ะฝะฐ ะŸะตะฝะตะปะพะฟัƒ,

ะฏ ะฒ ะดะฒะฐ ะฟะพะดัะบะพะบะฐ ะธ ะฒ ั‚ั€ะธ ะฟั€ะธั…ะปะพะฟะฐ –

ะŸะพั‡ั‚ะธ ะพะฝะฐ.

ะฏ ั‚ะตั€ะฟะตะปะธะฒะฐ, ะฝะตัƒั‚ะพะผะธะผะฐ ะฒ ัะฒะพั‘ะผ ั‚ะตั€ะฟะตะฝะธะธ

ะ˜ ะฒะตั€ะฝะฐ.

ะœะพะน ะžะดะธััะตะน ะฝะฐั€ะพะถะฐะป ะดะตั‚ะตะน ะธ ัะผะตะฝะธะป ะดะฒัƒั… ะถะตะฝ,

ะœะพะน ะžะดะธััะตะน ะฟะพัั‚ะพัะฝะฝะพ ะปะตะท ะฝะฐ ั€ะพะถะพะฝ,

ะžะฝ ะฝะต ะผะพะถะตั‚ ะถะธั‚ัŒ ะฑะตะท ัะฒะพะธั… ะฒะตั€ัˆะธะฝ:

ะ‘ะตะท ะฒะตั‚ั€ะฐ ะธ ะผะพั€ั, ะฑะตะท ัะปะฐะฒั‹ ะธ ะขั€ะพะธ, –

ะะต ะพะฝ ะพะดะธะฝ.

ะœะพะน ะžะดะธััะตะน ะฑั‹ะป ั€ะฐะฝะตะฝ ะฒ ะพะดะฝะพะน ะธะท ะฒะพะนะฝ

ะ˜ ัƒัั‚ั€ะตะผะธะปัั ะฟะพ ะกั‚ะธะบััƒ ะฒ ั†ะฐั€ัั‚ะฒะพ ั‚ะตะฝะตะน,

ะะพ ะฝะต ะธัะบะฐะปะฐ ะตะณะพ ะฝะธ ะพะดะฝะฐ ะธะท ะถะตะฝ,

ะะธ ะบั€ะฐัะฐะฒะธั†ะฐ ะดะพั‡ัŒ,

ะะธ ะดะพัั‚ะพะนะฝะตะนัˆะธะน ะธะท ะผัƒะถะตะน –

ะ•ะณะพ ัั‹ะฝ.

ะฃ ะผะพะตะณะพ ะžะดะธััะตั ะฝะต ะฑั‹ะปะพ ะดะฒัƒั… ะผะพะฝะตั‚,

ะŸะพั‚ะพะผัƒ ั‡ั‚ะพ ะฝะต ะฑั‹ะปะพ ะฝะธั‡ะตะณะพ,

ะะต ะฑั‹ะปะพ ะธ ะดะฒะฐะดั†ะฐั‚ะธ ะผะพะปะพะดะตั†ะบะธั… ะปะตั‚,

ะžัั‚ะฐะฒะฐะปะฐััŒ ั‚ะพะปัŒะบะพ ะฒะตั€ะฐ ะฒ ัะตะฑั ัะฐะผะพะณะพ.

ะขะฐะบ ะžะดะธััะตะน ะพะฑะฝะฐั€ัƒะถะธะป ัะตะฑั ะถะธะฒั‹ะผ,

ะ’ั‹ะดะพั…ะฝัƒะป ะฒะพะทะดัƒั…, ะฒะดะพั…ะฝัƒะป ะธ ะฟะพัˆะตะป ะธัะบะฐั‚ัŒ:

ะ”ะพะผ, ะŸะตะฝะตะปะพะฟัƒ, ะฐั€ะฑัƒะทั‹, ะธะท ะฟะตั‡ะบะธ ะดั‹ะผ,

ะ›ัƒะบ ะฑะพะตะฒะพะน ะธ ะทะฐัั‚ะตะปะตะฝะฝัƒัŽ ะบั€ะพะฒะฐั‚ัŒ.

ะะต ะผะธะฝะพะฒะฐะป ะžะดะธััะตะน ะฝะต ะพะดะฝัƒ ะบะพั€ั‡ะผัƒ,

ะ’ัั‘ ะพัั‚ะฐะฒะปัะป ะตะฒั€ะตัะผ:

ะŸะตั€ัั‚ะฝะธ, ะฟะพัั ะธ ะผะตั‡.

ะขะฐะบ ะฝะฐัƒั‡ะธะปะธ ะตะฒั€ะตะธ ะตะณะพ ัƒะผัƒ,

ะะพ ะžะดะธััะตะน ะฝะต ัƒะผะตะป ะฝะธั‡ะตะณะพ ะฑะตั€ะตั‡ัŒ.

ะฏ ัะดะฐัŽ ัะบะทะฐะผะตะฝ ะฝะฐ ะŸะตะฝะตะปะพะฟัƒ,

ะขะบัƒ ะฟะพะปะพั‚ะฝะพ, ะฒั‹ะฟะตะบะฐัŽ ั…ะปะตะฑ, –

ะŸะพั‡ั‚ะธ ะพะฝะฐ.

ะฏ ะพะถะธะดะฐัŽ ะทะดะตััŒ ะฒั‚ะพั€ะพะณะพ ะฟะพั‚ะพะฟะฐ,

ะงั‚ะพะฑั‹ ะตะณะพ ะ˜ั‚ะฐะบะพะน ัั‚ะฐะปะฐ ะผะพั ัั‚ั€ะฐะฝะฐ.

ะฏ ะทะฝะฐัŽ: ัƒ ะŸะตะฝะตะปะพะฟั‹ ะฑั‹ะปะธ ัะตั€ัŒะณะธ ะธ ะฑัƒัั‹,

ะ—ะพะปะพั‚ั‹ะต ะฑั€ะฐัะปะตั‚ั‹, ะฑะตะปั‘ะฝะฐั ะฟั€ะพัั‚ั‹ะฝั,

ะ‘ั‹ะปะพ ะฑะพะปัŒัˆะพะต ะฟะพะปะต,

ะะฐ ะบะพั‚ะพั€ะพะผ ั€ะพัะปะธ ะฐั€ะฑัƒะทั‹.

ะ ั‡ั‚ะพ ะถะต ะตัั‚ัŒ ัƒ ะผะตะฝัโ€ฆ
 
 
2
 
ะœะฝะต ะปะธะปะธ ะฒ ัƒั…ะพ ัะด ะทะปะพัะปะพะฒะฝั‹ะน,

ะฏ ะฟั€ะธะฝะธะผะฐะปะฐ ะฒัะต ะดะฐั€ั‹,

ะขะฐะบ ะณะพั€ะดะตะปะธะฒะฐั ะั€ะฐั…ะฝะฐ

ะกะฟะปะตั‚ะฐะปะฐ ั‡ัƒะดะฝั‹ะต ะบะพะฒั€ั‹,
 

ะะพ ะฝะต ัะฟะฐัะปะธ ะตั‘ ะบะฐั€ั‚ะธะฝั‹

ะœะธั€ั‹ ะธะปะปัŽะทะธะน ะทะพะปะพั‚ั‹ั…

ะŸะพะบั€ั‹ะปัั ะฒะพะทะดัƒั… ะฟะฐัƒั‚ะธะฝะพะน,

ะะตั‰ะฐะดะฝะพ ะดัƒัˆะฐั‰ะตะน ะดะฒะพะธั….

 
ะะต ั‚ะฐะบ ะปะธ ะดะธะฒะฝะฐั ะœะตะดะตั

ะ’ ะพั‚ั€ะฐะฒะต ั€ะตะฒะฝะพัั‚ะธ ัะฒะพะตะน,

ะ’ ะธะทะผะตะฝะฐั… ะผัƒะถะฐ ัะฐั‚ะฐะฝะตั,

ะ“ัƒะฑะธะปะฐ ัะพะฑัั‚ะฒะตะฝะฝั‹ั… ะดะตั‚ะตะน.

 
ะฏ ะพ ะณะตั€ะพัั… ัะพะถะฐะปะตัŽ,

ะะพ ะ“ั€ะตั†ะธั ัƒะถะต ะฝะต ั‚ะฐ,

ะะฐะนั‚ะธ ัะฟะฐัะตะฝัŒะต ะฝะต ัƒะผะตัŽ

ะ’ ั‚ะตะปะต ั€ะฐัะฟัั‚ะพะณะพ ะฅั€ะธัั‚ะฐ.
 

ะฏ ะผะธั€ะฝั‹ะน ัะพะฝ ั‚ะฒะพะน ะฝะต ะฝะฐั€ัƒัˆัƒ,

ะขะฐะบ ะฝะธะทะบะพ, ะฝะธะทะบะพ ะพั‚ ะทะตะผะปะธ

ะœะพัŽ ั€ะฐัั‚ะตั€ะทะฐะฝะฝัƒัŽ ะดัƒัˆัƒ

ะะฐ ะบั€ั‹ะปัŒัั… ะฐะฝะณะตะปั‹ ะฝะตัะปะธ.
 

About the Author:

_DSC4607
Elena Laptinskaya
Minsk, Belarus

Elena Laptinskaya was born in Orsha, Vitebsk region, Belarus. Her family moved from Orsha to Mogilev, and Elena graduated from secondary school and the Institute of Finance and Economics in Mogilev. Since 2009, she has lived and worked in Minsk. Elena began writing poetry in secondary school. She sees imagery and musicality as the most important qualities of poetry. Her poems were published in local publications in Belarus as well as in St. Petersburg anthologies such as “Limb”/”Helikon Plus”. Her first poetry collection “Razbeg” was published in Minsk in 2010 by Artia Group.

Elena Laptinskaya ะ•ะปะตะฝะฐ ะ›ะฐะฟั‚ะธะฝัะบะฐั
Bookshelf
by Boris Kokotov

This collection includes poems written in 2020-2023.ย  (Russian edition)

by Marina Eskin (Eskina)

“The Lingering Twilight” (“ะกัƒะผะตั€ะบะธ”) is Marina Eskin’s fifth book of poems. (Russian edition)

by Ilya Perelmuter (editor)

Launched in 2012, “Four Centuries” is an international electronic magazine of Russian poetry in translation.

by Nina Kossman

A collection of moving, often funny vignettes about a childhood spent in the Soviet Union.

“Vivid picture of life behind the Iron Curtain.” โ€”Booklist
“This unique book will serve to promote discussions of freedom.” โ€”School Library Journal

by Maria Galina

A book of poems by Maria Galina, put together and completed exactly one day before the start of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. This is Galina’s seventh book of poems. With translations by Anna Halberstadt and Ainsley Morse.

by Ian Probstein

A new collection of poems by Ian Probstein. (In Russian)

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