Roald Mandelstam. Translated by Ian Probstein

Also in Translations:

11. image
Roald Mandelstam. Self Portrait
Roald Mandelstam. Translated by Ian Probstein

 
* * *

Once there was Hellas on Earth

In the morning land…

Do not wake up the dead,

Do not be sad.
 

The evening and the night will pass,

The fog will sit still.

All wounds will heal,

Any wound will.
 

Why crave for future, blame

Those who passed away?

It might be better just to sing,

Better that way?
 

Sing of a bright and breezy dawn

In the wide world,

Where chains of quiet lamps swing

Under the wind.
 

In yellow fretted maple leaves

Pure joy nests:

Once Hellas was in the morning land,

On this earth.

1954
 
The Original
 
Когда-то в утренней земле

Была Эллада…

Не надо умерших будить,

Грустить не надо.
 

Проходит вечер, ночь пройдет —

Придут туманы,

Любая рана заживёт,

Любые раны.
 

Зачем о будущем жалеть,

Бранить минувших? —

Быть может, лучше просто петь,

Быть может, лучше?
 

О яркой ветренной заре

На белом свете,

Где цепи тихих фонарей

Качает ветер,
 

А в жёлтых листьях тополей

Живёт отрада:

Была Эллада на земле,

Была Эллада…

1954
 

Lemon-seller
 

— Moon lemons!

Brazen lemons!

Ringing sermons —

                  buy them,

Scatter them all around,

Moon lemons —

They will fill the room

                  with a lemon moonlight.

—Dazzling lemons!

Ringing lemons!

If your night

                  is dull and dark,

Buy moonshine —

Moon lemons,

Bronze lemons! —

                  Gold mine!

1954
 
The Original
 
ПРОДАВЕЦ ЛИМОНОВ
 

— Лунные лимоны!

— Медные лимоны!

Падают со звоном —

                  покупайте их.
 

Рассыпайте всюду

— Лунные лимоны —

Лунно и лимонно

                  в комнате от них.
 

— Яркие лимоны!

Звонкие лимоны! —

Если вам ночами

                 скучно и темно,
 

Покупайте луны —

Лунные лимоны!

Медные лимоны! —

                  золотое дно!

1954
 

Dialogue
 

— Why do your smiles resemble those of mummies

And your eyes, like deadly ponds, look down?

— Ashy condors of austere musings

Fly around, invade our town.
 

— Why are all the gates forever dumb?

— Nobody has touched those gates for years:

Golden brushes of machine-guns

Swept the people from the quiet squares.

1955
 
The Original
 
ДИАЛОГ

— Почему у вас улыбки мумий,

И глаза, как мертвый водоём?

— Пепельные кондоры раздумий

Поселились в городе моём.
 

— Почему бы не скрипеть воротам?

— Некому их тронуть, выходя! —

Золотые мётлы пулемётов

Подмели народ на площадях.
 
 

A Scarlet Streetcar
 

A dream was cut off: unfinished

Was the laughter and barking of stones.

A scarlet streetcar rushed forward

In a starry frost of the night.
 

A few empty corridors run

One by one, and in each

Rides a double of the Commander* —

His granite feet are stone cold.
 

                     —Who’s there?

                     —The grave’s conductor!

Black is the lightning of his gaze;

His blue throat is squeezed

By the chain of the Golden Fleece.

                     — Where am I? (He bursts into
laughter).

                     — What is it? Heaven or Hell?
 

A scarlet streetcar is hurled

Into a starry frost of the night.
 

Who’ll stop the car? We are whirled

In the whirlwind of a vicious circle!

The dead iron crow of the wind

Slapped my face with its wing.
 

The burning edge of the sky

Explodes like a copper cask:

A Scarlet Streetcar is cast

Into a starry frost of the night!

1955
 
The Original
 
АЛЫЙ ТРАМВАЙ

Сон оборвался: не кончен

Хохот и каменный лай.

В звездную изморозь ночи

Выброшен алый трамвай.
 

Пара пустых коридоров

Мчится один за другим.

В каждом — двойник Командора —

Холод гранитной ноги.
 

                  — Кто тут?

                  — Кондуктор могилы!

Молния взгляда черна,

Синее горло сдавила

Цепь золотого руна.

                  — Где я? (кондуктор хохочет.)

                  Что это? Ад или рай?
 

— В звездную изморозь ночи

Выброшен алый трамвай!
 

—Кто остановит вагоны?

Нас закружило кольцо!

Мертвой, чугунной вороной

Ветер ударит в лицо.
 

Лопнул, как медная бочка,

Неба пылающий край.

В звездную изморозь ночи

Выброшен Алый Трамвай!

1955
 
Legionaries’ Song **
 

The moon’s samovar

Hums to a star,

The night’s chimneys moan:

— Varus, give them back,

— Varus, hey, Var?

— Varus, give those legions back!
 

— Ravens will caress us

Drinking eyes from skulls! —

The legions are soundlessly singing

Silent songs without words.
 

Hovering hawks rush the shrouds.

Faithful Gauls are going to bed

Convinced to lie down;

Latin speech is quenched dead.
 

Stout consuls are asleep.

There is no victor here!

— Varus, hey, Var!

— Varus will never reply:

— The list of triumphs came to the end.
 

The moon’s samovar

Hums to a star,

The night’s chimneys moan:

— Varus, give them back,

— Varus, hey, Var?

— Varus, give those legions back!
 

The Original
 
ПЕСНЯ ЛЕГИОНЕРОВ

Тихо мурлычет

Луны самовар,

Ночь дымоходами стонет:

— Вар, возврати мне их,

— Вар, а Вар?

— Вар, отдай легионы!
 

— Нас приласкают вороны,

Выпьют глаза из голов! —

Молча поют легионы

Тихие песни без слов.
 

Коршуны мчат опахала

И, соглашаясь прилечь,

Падают верные галлы, —

Молкнет латинская речь.
 

Грузные, спят консуляры:

Здесь триумфатора нет!

— Вар! –

Не откликнуться Вару —

Кончился список побед.
 

Тихо мурлычет луны самовар,

Ночь дымоходами стонет:

— Вар, возврати мне их!

— Вар, а Вар?

— Вар, отдай легионы!
 

________________

TRANSLATOR’S NOTES

* An allusion to Pushkin’s Stone Guest and Mozart’s Don Juan as well as to Nikolai Gumilev’s poem “Wayward Trolley”.

** An allusion to a tragic episode in the Roman history when three Roman legions and their allies Gauls led by Publius Quintilius Varus were defeated by the German tribes under Arminius in the Teutoburg Forest in 9 A.D., and Varus committed suicide. Svetonius writes that Augustus was in such a despair that he hit his head against the doors exclaiming: “Publius Varus, give me those legions my legions back!”

About the Author:

i_004
Roald Mandelstam
Leningrad, USSR

Roald Mandelstam (1932-1961) was born in Leningrad. He studied at the Polytechnic Institute, and then at the Faculty of Oriental Studies at Saint Petersburg State University. He did not graduate; he could not work anywhere, and rarely left the house because of a severe form of tuberculosis. In the late 1950s, he experienced persistent acute illness and was hospitalized many times. On January 26, 1961, he died from a hemorrhage. “Roald Mandelstam, the pioneer of post-war uncensored literature, the first poet who became famous exclusively thanks to samizdat. Roald Mandelstam, like his artist friends (A. Arefiev, R. Vasmi, I. Thomov, R. Gudzenko, L. Titov, A. Mourning, VL. Shagin, Sh. Schwartz), belongs to the generation of military children who built their art and their World Vision on the Ruins of Civilization; who felt themselves both savages and heirs of the Silver Age.” (from Complete Poems of Roald Mandelstam, published by Limbach Ivan Publishing House). In 2012, a postal stamp was issued commemorating Roald Mandelstam’s 80th anniversary.

About the Translator:

Ian . (1)
Ian Probstein
New York, USA

Ian Probstein is a poet, scholar, and translator of poetry. His most recent book in English is The River of Time: Time-Space, Language and History in Avant-Garde, Modernist, and Contemporary Poetry.  Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2017, Complete annotated edition of T. S. Eliot’s Poetry and Plays (St. Petersburg: Azbuka, 2019), Charles Bernstein. Sign Under Test: Selected Poems and Essays. (Moscow: Russian Gulliver-Center 2020).

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