Alyona Yemelina. To those, who sailed off
Оригинал: http://www.stihi.ru/2010/10/06/981
Alyona Yemelina
TO THOSE, WHO SAILED OFF
Watching the wobbling waves –
these blue millstones of water –
as they are grinding the past,
you remember those who sailed off
in their long boats to the horizon.
Those bidding them farewell for eternity
would shade their eyes with their palms,
so that the sun would not make them blind,
and the sea would not see them grieve,
and the tear would not moist the cheek,
the tear for those who sailed off
into the sunset.
The memorial stones top the rocks,
the runic script with the farewell words
twists around the crosses and serpents;
the palish curls of the summer sky
glitter with silver behind their shoulders,
the seagulls circle in the shimmering light,
crying sadly and lonely.
The night is transforming time,
interweaving yesterday and tomorrow,
making hands join –
the warm hands with those beyond return.
Existence is petrified into memory,
what saves our souls
becomes the array of clear stars
and ascends to the crystal spheres,
adding its voice to their chorus.
The past is useless,
it turns into dust
when we leave the cradle of the Earth.
Those, who remember us, err –
they don't remember us
as we were.
So, sail off
without regret!
There, beyond the last line,
the eternal truth
will be revealed.
Every day of your life
is weighted,
and the scroll of black holes
and constellations
is sealed
with the Sacred Seal.
Свидетельство о публикации №111090906931
When you watch the waves for a long time -
the blue millstones of water
as they do their job grinding the past -
you think back of those who sailed off
to the horizon in their long boats.
Those bidding them the sad long farewell
would shade their eyes with their palms
so that the sun would not make them blind,
and the sea would not see them grieve,
and the tear would not moist the cheek,
the tear for those who sailed off into the sunset.
The memorial stones top the hills,
the runic script with the farewell words
twists around the crosses and the serpents,
the palish curls of the summer sky
glitter with silver behind their shoulders,
the seagulls circle in the shimmering light
and call with a sad lonely cry.
The night is transforming time,
interweaving yesterday and tomorrow,
making hands join –
the warm hands with those beyond return.
Existence is petrified into memory,
What saves the souls of ours
becomes the array of clear stars
and flies high to the crystal spheres,
adding its voice to their chorus.
The past is useless,
it turns into ashes
when we leave the cradle of the Earth.
Those who remember us
don't really remember us
as we were.
So, sail off
without regret.
There, in the far lands,
the eternal truth
will reveal itself.
Every day of your life
is weighted,
and the scroll of black holes
and constellations
is sealed
with the Sacred Seal.
Евгения Саркисьянц 10.09.2012 06:42 Заявить о нарушении
Вам кажется, что у меня ушло чувство - есть над чем подумать. Сравню, подумаю.
С благодарностью,
Валентин Емелин 10.09.2012 10:25 Заявить о нарушении
Евгения Саркисьянц 10.09.2012 19:24 Заявить о нарушении
ОЧЕНЬ ценные замечания. Принципиальные. Да, для нас, впитавших великих русских композиторов,(не говоря уж о поэтах) музыка очень важна. Бобэоби пелись губы, Вээоми пелись взоры... Да-с. Тут один знакомый знаток испанского говорил о восприятии Лорки в оригинале и переводах, истинно звучащий совершенно по-другому - хотя, казалось бы - мы куда ближе к испанскому именно звучанию.
Слово-живопись и слово-музыка. Аудио- vs Видео-культура. Можно эссе писать.
Валентин Емелин 10.09.2012 19:37 Заявить о нарушении
Евгения Саркисьянц 11.09.2012 03:46 Заявить о нарушении