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Poetry Readings: Night descended on us with a chill

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Poetry Readings: A Conversation in Winter
Tomas Venclova Poet
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Įženk į šį peizažą. Dar tamsu.

Anapus kopų gaudžia tuščias plentas.

Su jūromis kariauja kontinentas –

Nematomas, bet sklidinas balsų.

Praeivis arba angelas sniege

Palikęs žymę prieblandon nubrido,

Ir kranto atspindys juosvam lange

Mums primena bevaisę Antarktidą.

 

Putoja neužšalus pragarmė.

Jau nebe pirmą mylią rieda smiltys.

Čia paryškėja, čia išnyksta tiltas,

Ir plinta atšiauri žiemos ertmė.

Nėra nei telegramų, nei laiškų,

Tik nuotraukos. Tranzistorius neveikia.

Sakytum, žvakė, lašanti vašku,

Užantspaudavo pavojingą laiką.

 

Koks drėgnas oras, koks skardus akmuo,

Koks visagalis paryčio rentgenas!

Įtempus žvilgsnį, praskaidrėja sienos,

Bažnyčios bokštas ir žmogaus liemuo.

Baltam fone išsiskiria tiktai

Migloti medžių kontūrai. Pro žievę,

Net užsimerkęs, tu beveik matai

Atsparią, siaurą paskutinę rievę.

 

“Tas įprotis išvargina akis,

Po valandėlės nesunku suklysti."

“Ne apie mus byloja pranašystė."

Pakrypsta apšarmojusi ašis,

Ir, rodos, horizonto riboje,

Kur juoduoja laivai ir stingsta garsas,

Nejudriame pajūrio danguje

Įsidega Jupiteris ir Marsas.

 

Ligi Atlanto plyti tuštuma.

Dyki laukai – lyg atrakintos salės.

Po sausio sluoksniu slepiasi vasaris,

Nuo šlapio vėjo gūžias lyguma.

Už marių apsinuogina kalnai,

Duburyje suslūgsta ir pajuosta

Aptirpusi pusnis. “O kas tenai?"

“Vėl upių žiotys, įlankos ir uostai."

 

Po sunkiasvorio debesio tinklu

Tarytum žuvys blizga ankštos aikštės.

“Ar tu atsimeni, ką sakė žvaigždės?"

“Šis amžius išsiverčia be ženklų,

Tėra statistika." “Mirties trauka

Sukausto žmogų, augalą ir daiktą,

Tačiau sudygsta grūdas ir auka,

Ir štai tada, manau, ne viskas baigta”

 

“Kur liudininkas? Aš nesuprantu,

Kas perskiria tikrovę ir apgaulę:

Gal mudu esame vieni pasauly."

“O man atrodo, kad esi tik tu."

“O trečias pašnekovas? Tu sakai,

Kad niekas šito pokalbio negirdi?"

“Yra dangus ir apsnigti laukai,

O balsas kartais pergyvena širdį."

 

Vidurdienis patamsina medžius.

Visai prašvitus, sąmonėje lieka

Prieš valandėlę sutverti iš nieko

Lengvi daiktai, atstojantys žodžius:

Sudužusi ledokšnio atskala,

Šakų skeletas, ištrupėjęs mūras

Ties gatvės posūkiu... Paskui – tyla

Ir šiapus jūros, ir anapus jūros.

Enter this landscape. Darkness still prevails.

Filled to the brim with voices, though unseen,

The continent takes up arms against the seas.

Across the dunes, the empty highway wails.

A passerby or an angel in the snow

Has left a subtle covered trail behind,

And, in the blackish pane, the seaside’s glow

Becomes the bleak Antarctic in our minds.

 

The chasm, not frozen, froths beneath the land.

The pouring grains of sand pass their first mile.

Sometimes the pier grows vivid, sometimes veiled,

And, menacingly, the winter space expands.

No telegrams, no letters stay behind,

Just photographs. No sound from the transistor.

A candle, you would say, has sealed the time

Of danger with its burning hot wax drippings.

 

How sonorous the rock, how damp the air,

How mighty the radiation when it forestalls

The dawn! You strain your eyes until the walls,

Church tower, human body turn transparent.

Only the hazy contours of the trees

Stand out against the whiteness. Through the bark,

Even closing your eyes, you almost see

The stubborn, narrow last ring of the trunk.

 

‘This habit has been trying on my eyes;

In just a minute, I will surely falter.’

‘The prophecy is speaking of another.’

The hoarfrost-covered axis now inclines,

And, at the line of the horizon, where

The ships turn black, where the vibration freezes,

A flame bursts forth from Mars and Jupiter,

Deep in the sluggish sky, above the seaside.

 

The void extends to the Atlantic sand.

The field gapes like a hall, open and barren.

While January blankets February,

The plain shrinks back from the watery wind.

Past the lagoons, the hills begin to bare

Themselves; a somewhat melted snowdrift stiffens

And darkens in a pit. ‘And what is there?’

‘Again the ports and bays, the mouths of rivers.’

 

Beneath the screen mesh of the weighty cloud,

Squares, like fish, are glittering and playing.

‘Do you remember what the stars were saying?’

‘This century is managing without

A sign; there’s just statistics.’ ‘Gravity

Of death has fettered person, plant, and thing,

But sprouts burst forth from seed and sacrifice,

And then not all is over, or so I think.’

 

‘Where is the witness? Still it’s not too clear

What separates the real from the imagined;

Perhaps just you and I are on this planet.’

‘It seems to me that only you are here.’

‘And what about the third one? Do you mean

That no one hears us talking, or takes part?’

‘There is the firmament and snowy green,

And the voice, at times, lives longer than the heart.’

 

The stroke of noon brings dark hues to the woods.

When day attains its height, consciousness

Retains light things, brought forth from nothingness

A moment ago, taking the place of words:

A piece of ice, split into particles,

A skeleton of boughs, a brick wall, crumbled

Beside the roadway’s bend... Then all is silence

On this side of the sea, and the other.

 

The English language translation of this poem has been published by permission © Bloodaxe Books (www.bloodaxebooks.com).

Born in 1937, Tomas Venclova is a Lithuanian scholar, poet, author and translator of literature. He was educated at Vilnius University and later at Tartu University. As an active participant in the dissident movement he was deprived of Soviet citizenship in 1977 and had to emigrate. Between 1977 and 1980 he lectured at University of California, Berkeley, where he became friends with the Polish poet Czesław Miłosz, who was a professor of Slavic Languages and Literature at the school, as well as the Russian poet Joseph Brodsky. He is currently a full professor at Yale University.

Listeners: Andrzej Wolski

Film director and documentary maker, Andrzej Wolski has made around 40 films since 1982 for French television, the BBC, TVP and other TV networks. He specializes in portraits and in historical films. Films that he has directed or written the screenplay for include Kultura, which he co-directed with Agnieszka Holland, and KOR which presents the history of the Worker’s Defence Committee as told by its members. Andrzej Wolski has received many awards for his work, including the UNESCO Grand Prix at the Festival du Film d’Art.

Tags: A Conversation in Winter

Duration: 3 minutes, 45 seconds

Date story recorded: May/June 2011

Date story went live: 20 March 2012