А как вывели ее на площадь, связанной, Увидали, как она бледна лицом, А глаза то у нее дики несказанно, А еще звали ее богомолицей... А была б в монастыре да монашенкой, А и сделалась б христовой невестою, Иль преставилась младенчиком Дашенькой, - Да стала чудищем у лобного места. Видно, Боженька да спорил с Лукавым, Если так-то повернуть-что с ней сбудется? И промолвил: быть тебе на сей раз правым, Окаянна она, душегубица. Ай что крови то выпито да пролито, Море красное, море грозное А она глядит-ключом закрытая, Как пещера, камнем заложена. И блуждает на устах улыбка странная, От такой все сердца содрогаются Пусть ползет змеей, окаянная, Хватит ль вечности, чтоб покаяться, Хватит ль вечности, да и надо ли, Есть ли слово для ей заповедное? Не вернуть никого уж, не отмолить… Страшный омут очей, щеки бледные.
*********
*It’s my sudden, written-very-fast-in-some-transe response to the series “The Blood Lady” -a (very) fictional account of a (unfortunately) true and horrid story of Darya Saltykova.
Do I think it’s a good show, cinematographically (what a long word) speaking?
I’m not sure, frankly it doesn’t make my top-fifty even-and they play unevenly, so to say.
Interestingly, the nobility is more caricature, while almost all actors who play serfs do quite a good job-I wonder whether it was an effect the creators wanted, to a degree?
But. The translation to English is superb (I always read subtitles, regardless what language a movie or show is, with the constancy of an addiction), -and, as you can see, it’s hard to emerge from such story unscathed, so there you have it.
**regardless of this idiotic post( I truly hope it’s not my last one, I am always “oh, let my last post not to be especially idiotic”)-I have an observation to share.
Which is-мой русский, как ни плох, все же куда лучше моего английского. Странно, меланхолично сказал я.
Только кто это читать будет, я бы и сам себя не читал. Так-то приходится. Даже перечитываю иногда.
Then though something happens. Letters get stolen and burnt. Internet places sink. I get locked out of my profiles, or something. а был ли мальчик?
***My thoughts lately are either too fast and scattered, and I can’t gather them, some shine like silvery fishes, with some promise, only to swim away-or have some sticky, sluggish, leaden quality to them. Right now for example, I forgot where I was going with that, which is not a big loss for humanity.
G-d, grant me the serenity, the courage, and the wisdom-but not only to me, I added, не обойди и остальных, что ли. Спасибо-пожалуйста.
*****I wanted to share with you another poem that I wrote, in English, as a bonus-but decided it’s a dubious bonus.
too many stars,
yours, and highly susceptible
Chen/April
I must admit. I kind of like when you write in Russian. It gives me the opportunity to go out and read what you wrote.
This is what I got:
And how they brought her to the square, tied up,
They saw how pale her face was,
And her eyes are wild beyond words,
And they called her the Virgin Mary...
And if I were in a monastery and a nun,
And I would become Christ’s bride,
Or passed away as baby Dashenka, -
Yes, she became a monster at the execution site.
Apparently, God was arguing with the Evil One,
If you turn this way, what will happen to her?
And he said: this time you should be right,
She is damned, a murderer.
Oh, a lot of blood has been drunk and shed,
The sea is red, the sea is formidable
And she looks, locked with a key,
Like a cave, filled with stones.
And a strange smile wanders on the lips,
This makes all hearts shudder
Let it crawl like a damned snake,
Is eternity enough to repent?
Is eternity enough, and is it necessary?
Is there a sacred word for her?
You can’t bring anyone back, you can’t pray for them...
A terrible pool of eyes, pale cheeks.
(gosh, how this website glitches. I'm sorry. Posting/it's double/I delete/then all disappears/I repost/rinse-repeat)