The poems after poems, they look like poems
and not like poems
there is a smell of threadbare skin from them
of heated metal - well, so what,
not write anymore? You'll die of boredom!
They will put a stone with the inscription: "Passer-by,
stop at this grave,
it is all rotten, and for the appeal "O Lord"
there is no strong rhyme, neither skillful hand,
neither opened mouth - so at least close the eyes".
In the distance, Chechens and Aztecs rumble
and here it is white and quiet as in a chemistry —
one moment vials tinkle on the counter,
another, a coin slips and rolls
across the tiles - but where to?! It landed on head
in the corner where the glory where the victorious thunder
rattle in verses in season and out of season
Translated from Russian by Tatiana Bonch-Osmolovskaya
What a wonderfully curmudgeonly poem. It's absolutely alive with dismissive disgust. And an old man's resignation that this is just the kind of crap that happens. Inspired by a poem we take up pen and pay homage. The glittering example, whole and transcendent, is reduced to some tacked together monstrosity of scraps and misapplied vitality. The original comes almost god-like from the head of Zeus, ready to do battle, ready to vibrate the sinews into action. While the latter is a substance contained in a test-tube in a sterile lab. And yet what can the poet do? The resonance is undeniable and must be met with some effort, a hint at something that may find some quiet corner where it proclaims its own small value. Read it aloud in a grumpy old man's voice. The voice of a weathered and experienced soul, with grey stubble and uncombed hair, one who accomplished something that he speaks of only with reticence, that lends him wisdom and experience, who knows also the value of trials tried and failed. This poem fairly sings in that old, gruff intonation.
An insightful piece of poetry, well articulated and nicely penned.
Wow! ! ! Now this is the profundity that Gertrude Stein tried for and seldom delivered. Must read more- thankful that he was translated into English
Apes walking through images. Taking me along every step of the way. Thanks for translation.
A beautiful poem with a undeniable resonance. Thanks poet for this insightful poem.
across the tiles - but where to? ! It landed on head/in the corner where the glory where the victorious thunder/rattle in verses in season and out of season Such a thought-provoking poem!Thanks for sharing...
Across the tiles! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for sharing................