(no subject)

[mlr]

CHRISTMAS BALLAD             For Evgeny Rein, with love   There floats in an abiding gloom, among immensities of brick, a little boat of night: it seems to sail through Alexander Park. It's just a lonely streetlamp, though, a yellow rose against the night, for lovers strolling down below        the busy street.   There floats in an abiding gloom a drone of bees: men drunk, asleep. In the dark capital a lone tourist takes another snap. Now out onto Ordynka turns a taxicab, with sickly faces; dead men lean into the arms        of the low houses.   There floats in an abiding gloom a poet in sorrow; over here a round-faced man sells kerosene, the sad custodian of his store. Along a dull deserted street an old Lothario hurries. Soon the midnight-riding newlyweds        sail through the gloom.   There floats in outer Moscow one who swims at random to his loss, and Jewish accents wander down a dismal yellow flight of stairs. From love toward unhappiness, to New Year's Eve, to Sunday, floats a good-time girl: she can't express        what's lost inside.   Cold evening floats within your eyes and snow is fluttering on the panes of carriages; the wind is ice and pale, it seals your reddened palms. Evening lights like honey seep; the scent of halvah's everywhere, as Christmas Eve lifts up its sweet        meats in the air.   Now drifting on a dark-blue wave across the city's gloomy sea, there floating by, your New Year's Eve-- as if life could restart, could be a thing of light with each day lived successfully, and food to eat, --as if, life having rolled to left,        it could roll right.                 Joseph Brodsky             (translated by Glyn Maxwell)

РОЖДЕСТВЕНСКИЙ РОМАНС             Евгению Рейну, с любовью   Плывет в тоске необъяснимой среди кирпичного надсада ночной кораблик негасимый из Александровского сада, ночной фонарик нелюдимый, на розу желтую похожий, над головой своих любимых, у ног прохожих.   Плывет в тоске необьяснимой пчелиный ход сомнамбул, пьяниц. В ночной столице фотоснимок печально сделал иностранец, и выезжает на Ордынку такси с больными седоками, и мертвецы стоят в обнимку с особняками.   Плывет в тоске необьяснимой певец печальный по столице, стоит у лавки керосинной печальный дворник круглолицый, спешит по улице невзрачной любовник старый и красивый. Полночный поезд новобрачный плывет в тоске необьяснимой.   Плывет во мгле замоскворецкой, плывет в несчастие случайный, блуждает выговор еврейский на желтой лестнице печальной, и от любви до невеселья под Новый год, под воскресенье, плывет красотка записная, своей тоски не обьясняя.   Плывет в глазах холодный вечер, дрожат снежинки на вагоне, морозный ветер, бледный ветер обтянет красные ладони, и льется мед огней вечерних и пахнет сладкою халвою, ночной пирог несет сочельник над головою.   Твой Новый год по темно-синей волне средь моря городского плывет в тоске необьяснимой, как будто жизнь начнется снова, как будто будет свет и слава, удачный день и вдоволь хлеба, как будто жизнь качнется вправо, качнувшись влево.                 Ио́сиф Бро́дский

Joseph Brodsky wrote this poem in 1962 - one year before being publicly denounced by the Soviet press - two years before serving 18 months of a five year sentence of hard labor for social parasitism - ten years before being involuntarily exiled - and 25 years before receiving the Nobel Prize for literature. He tried to write an annual Christmas poem - an unusual activity for a Russian Jew (and most likely agnostic). A few notes from the long out-of-print Selected Poems. 1. Alexander Park lies next to the Kremlin on the side opposite the Lenin Mausoleum. Since its outer edge is below street level, its streetlights (which are shaped somewhat like ship's lanterns), though above the heads of people walking in the park itself, are below the feet of pedestrians on the sidewalk outside the park. 2. During several extended visits to Moscow the poet Anna Akhmatova lived on Ordynka Street; Brodsky visited her there. This street, like the old Arbat, is known for its many small 'private' houses (особняками). 3. New Year's Eve 1962 (31 December 1961) fell on a Sunday. 4. The terms 'left' and 'right' are not meant politically.

Comments

[transairn.livejournal.com]

Merry something to you. :-)

[mlr.livejournal.com]

& to you :-)

[substitute.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much.

[mlr.livejournal.com]

very welcome. thanks for reading it.