Let's Go Again

this post is partially in Russian

Пойдем опять с тобою
К кромке пруда 
Где обрывается дорога
И блестит вода
Где осины дрожат
И воздух стоит
Над ними, плотно соткан
Из печальных молитв 

Навестим опять 
Маленький дом
С островерхой крышей
С давно пустым очагом
Куда спускаются птицы
И гнезда вьют
Создают озабоченно
Странный уют

И окружает покосившийся 
Старый забор
Этот маленький дом 
И маленький двор
И стайку могил 
Неподалеку от стен,
Где лежат Мать, и Отец, 
И сестричка Энн,

И старый кот,
И одноглазый пес.
И все они терпеливо
Ждут без воплей и слез
Под окаменелой глиной
Блаженный день
Когда настанет свет
И отступит тень

И мир развернется 
Вдоль борозд поля вспять,
И исцеленные души
Восстанут опять.

Давай, давай подождем
На берегу пруда
Мы посидим вдвоем,
Смотри, блестит вода
И буки прорезают
Небесный свод
Что над нами тоже
Сомкнётся вот-вот.

* This here is my вольный перевод/translation of the poem by

Paul Wittenberger

Let's Go Again to The Edge Of The Lake

**it’s very raw-if it’d be a steak it’d be “bleu” I guess. Yet I want to save it as is. Maybe time will arrive and it’ll become medium-rare-close to rare. I definitely don’t like anything well-done. Or do I? I also don’t like meat that much, or talking about it, yet here I suddenly am.

Second- time- translations usually are better-and I’m yet something to tackle, because it bothers me now, after the first feverish state passes, and one is able to sufficiently distance himself.

Whatever it will be, or won’t-thank you, Paul, yet again, for your kind permission to butcher your poems-I do hope they don’t die, just come to life in a different way.

**********************

***I wanted also to hey, give a shoutout to Philip Traylen of

oldoldoldoldnew

and

Shalom Auslander

, in case I didn’t yet, for encouraging me to yes, read Kafka-I’m almost done devouring his collected works and I’m completely under the spell.

I’d be done much earlier, but I had to fly, and the book is so heavy one can kill with it, so I stopped back then, just before “The Metamorphosis”.

Then I also made a mistake -I saw the name of the main hero and he’s Gregor.

I’ve a thing with names, and I desperately didn’t want any harm caused to any Gregor. I even thought “hell maybe I won’t read it and Gregor will be fine that way”-but I did read it in the end, luckily him having a last name somehow made him into a specific, different Gregor, so it was easier. Was amazing too.

Which brings me to the memory-once I told someone that it feels sometimes like I’m an insect, akin to some butterfly pupa, cocoon that is trying to be one and the same with some tree it’s stuck to, and described the feeling, and how my muscles kinda hurt-and she said that this bit of info that I provided makes her rethink a lot about yours truly.

And I was just a (imaginary) cocoon and nobody knew.

Imagine if I started to move while being that, I bet she’d rethink everything.

In short. Some people start imagining,- and yet others continue to and write it down, so I’m from the category one, and why, actually, when I want to be category two?

I guess me not knowing any language normally is contributing to this sad situation; but there’s something else. Maybe it’s also me seeing ahead of a time, wisely, what impression it’ll make, you know, and poor family and friends, only some brave maid who’ll probably get rid of me afterwards, she’ll be totally fine, even slightly amused.

I even know who that might be, догадался я, внезапно озаренный.

****Вообше-то ничего этого я не собирался писать, как вы поняли, тем более я болею и на каких то антибиотиках, и вообше на лопатках во всех смыслах, как тот Грегор, -ну и вышло как всегда сказал я мрачно, уотевер. Я не червонец, чтоб нравиться всем, как говорил один мальчик-правда он всем тогда нравился, кроме полиции, так что ему было легко говорить.

*****(? ’cause counting is hard. “hands are hard, Bunny”.)

Stay safe, you all. We’ll go again. Someday.

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