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Poetry Readings: Night descended on us with a chill
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Views | Duration | ||
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81. Poetry Readings: Hidalgo | 105 | 02:05 | |
82. Introduction to A Conversation in Winter | 51 | 01:58 | |
83. Poetry Readings: A Conversation in Winter | 39 | 03:45 | |
84. Poetry Readings: Night descended on us with a chill | 42 | 03:36 | |
85. Poetry Readings: Desist, desist | 75 | 01:54 | |
86. Poetry Readings: Before the middle of July, Paris | 1 | 56 | 04:26 |
87. Poetry Readings: In the Fire | 96 | 01:39 | |
88. Poetry Readings: Variacija nubudimo tema | 27 | 03:22 |
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.
Title: Poetry Readings: "A Conversation in Winter"
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