# Poems

Дмитрий Генаддьевич Каминяр

Несколько переводов разных стихов

1.

The blood will freeze in veins, and marrow in bones,

And flesh will freeze like rock upon the sacred stones;

And long will be the sleep under the stone,

Whilst empty yet stands the Blackest Throne;

Whilst the palace has not become a tomb,

Whilst not yet strong the wind of doom;

Whilst in the sky still shine sun and moon,

While the sea has not yet breached its doom;

Until the blood will fill the cup, not wine,

Whilst in the sky the tiny stars do shine,

And then the Lord of Dark will reach his hand,

And kill the sea and whither land.


2.


Through the shores of slovenly Nile,

Through the flocks of moths and the birds,

Lies a tomb, which was raised by the swords,

A queen both enchanting and vile.


The gloom of night carries lies on fog,

Lurks the moon like a siren of sin,

The moist mists are all choking as smog,

And from a cave comes a big hyena.


And it groans from its brutal fury,

And its eyes are both malignant and depressing,

With its paws does it corpses unbury,

Whilst on tomb lies the shade of moons crescent.


"Now watch, o moon, the patroness of lovers,

And look, o stars, you faint visions,

And watch, o Nile, through your silent powers,

Upon this tomb, erected from the treasons.


And watch my fur, how it raises upwards,

How my eyes do burn with evil flame.

Im as bad as she, yet how it happened,

That it is she who got all the fame?


In her chest beat a heart chockfull of treason,

Her curving eyebrows brought only demise forth,

Yes, she was a hyena - which could reason.

And she too found just blood worthy."


In villages the dogs do bark in fear,

The little children weep, freaked-out beyond reason,

While grown-ups pick-up the army gear,

And frowned down, thinking thoughts of treason.


3.


From loneliness, that drives one mad,

An echos whisper can become true words.

Hiding behind fans, as sharp as swords,

the moon does laugh, though shes waning, sad.

And every thing around looks in vain,

all has been read and scanned, all has been plain.

Thus there is no escape for me from pain.


Thus there is no escape for me from pain

No salvation in the meaning of the letters:

Their meanings - multitude and one of fetters,

These fetters fog the mind with true fear,

And Bachs organs will sing both true and clear,

And Boschs creatures will gain true flesh.

One cant escape the rigidness of mesh.


One cant escape the rigidness of mesh

Neither with in salvation nor treason,

Thus Troy, that has accepted Helena,

Has fallen by abandoning its reason,

Thus deities are bound by the faith,

I, just like them, do seek some other place.

Thus Im on the edge, with abyss right before me.


Thus Im on the edge, with abyss right before me

it shines with the great displays of space,

Its full with rustling of the bamboo leaves,

The running water deep inside it grieves,

Perhaps from ever-present numbness...

Im standing on the merging of the coast;

its colours blue, its murmur - voice of ghosts.


Its colours blue, its murmur - voice of ghosts,

And it is full of foreboding and alarm,

The birds are flying far away from harm -

They fly to south - that is their charm.

The trees have lost their foliage of gold,

as sleep has touched them and they did what they were told.

The wave has come and burst on the rocks of old.


The wave has come and burst on the rocks of old,

Just like the light does, falling on some glass,

Or maybe on the hair of some lass;

And ice becomes as hard as steel and cold,

When it catches the soul like a bee,

In its primeval darkness from which none can flee,

Without breaking-up into the shards.


Without breaking-up into shards,

The tree trunks can not no longer stand alone,

Trying to have its pain, loss, atoned

As soon inside her giant, dusky eyes,

the maiden of the dark dresses in clothing lies.

A tear glistens, to no ones surprise,

from loneliness that drives one mad.


From loneliness that drives one mad,

Thus there is no escape for me from pain

One cant escape the rigidness of mesh,

Thus Im on the edge, with abyss right before me:

Its colours blue, its murmur - voice of ghosts.

The wave has come and burst on the rocks of old,

without breaking-up into the shards.


4.


At the sea, oh at the sea,

Is a big blue stone,

Naked beauty sits on it

Her legs in awash in wave-foam,

To the shipwrights does she call,

"Shipwrights, oh shipwrights!

For what dost you sail the seas,

Sailing them in vain?

Pearl and amber do you seek-

Well, there's just one pearl-

That's my beauty so fair,

My lips so passionate,

My breasts are so cool to touch,

My legs are light as feathers,

Yet so heavy are my hands!

Thus there's just one prize

Here - to sleep in my fair arms,

Hearing me singing!"

But the shipwrights sail on,

Not heading the maiden,

Yet so heavy are their hearts,

Their eyes are blind with tears.

They can't forget her asleep or awake,

In travel or in harbour-

They'll hear her for evermore.


5.


Abandoned by bright one, the great Thunderer's silent daughter,

Trying to catch up to him, brings forth her belovded twins.

Just like the both of their folk, the twins grew up fully immortal,

But uncomparable wholly the divine twins.

Swarthy like mother, a demiurge just like his father,

Sleep dreams of day even in darkness of night.

But the daughter renowned of Day, yet in nature

Fully of immortal night, mistress Death -

She, star-crowned, will not recognize

Neither her father nor her inconsolable dam.


6.


The angel of death piteously will cry

Upon the time of Armageddon,

He'll spread his wings and then he'll die

Lying prostrate before G-d's throne.


The angel of vengeance will not budge,

Nor shall he be perturbed in ever.

'I am yours to command, oh eternal Judge,

All things must die, but revenge lives forever.'


7.


You're all alone, child of prophet,

It is dark, the time of Khaya-Bash

Feel the wind; it's whistling a prayer,

Feel your skin part under its icy lash.


You're too high already; from the people

You're too far; and in the pine copse

Comes fast chill; from slopes that's too steeple -

It will bear yet your own corpse.


There's only two, who'll meet the challenge -

You, your steed. The copse - it helps you not.

Winter wind - in needles it does scrounge -

Easily will pin you to your spot.


Where you will hide? Your body's weary,

So is your heart... So's your steed...

Look through pines... See it, white and hoary,

Granite mount, Khaya-Bash - for this is it.


And the sky - it's looming closer, closer,

It is full of snow and of gloom.

And you know, as it's coming closer,

That it's foreshadowing your doom.


8.


A pagan altar, sheathed in wreathes of flowers -

Row of submissive virgins, clad in white.

The fragrant smoke foresees benign showers

All prophesized before the crystal statue,

Of goddess, who has slyly looked aside.


The woods, the morn, the dusk. The emerald of greenery,

The chrysolites that glow crystal-bright.

Upon a gold-wrought table, sits in preenery,

All calm and peaceful as the mighty Buddha,

Naught on earth or Paradise can flee her sight.


The gaze of hers, mysterious and quivering,

Is looking more, more passionless and dead

From deep beneath her slanted, upturned brows,

And a sly, secret smile is quivering,

Upon her shining face, as still as lead.


9.


The mandrake plant above the graves does bloom,

Above the coffins buried next to gallows black.

The mandrake feeds upon the juice of death and gloom -

And it is king in the wild weeds' pack.


O brother Cain, who from poison mandrake grew!

Great God, perhaps, can forgive a kin-slayer.

Yet hangman's not a killer, but spawned by Hell, quite true,

And for flower full of poison he'll forsake you your prayer!


10.


It's wild and dark, among the snow and ice

Death pitched her tent. Above, for half a year,

The polar night; the pale Polar star

Stands and burns in the abyssal sky.


Look closely at the misty spectre. This is death.

She sits before her tent and she is staring

Most blindly into the midnight sky -

'Till the end of the world, the Star will burn above her.


11.


A dark, gloomy passageway,

Like a thief, I'm on my way,

Scold myself, am barely breathing,

So not to frighten off these,

Who are sleeping long ago,

These, but whom nevertheless,

In whose I room secretly I desire

To glance...

To see...


How the insomnia in this hour of night,

Changes, you, unsociable, your appearance and your might,

To whose ideas you're enslaved?

By whose ideas people are your prey?


There's a small cross on my breast,

Look at it, and see the rest,

That on you, it's capable

To change quite a lot

Many books I read indeed,

Many tricks have been my meat,

Don't even to attempt from me your secret hide!

This I saw!


How the insomnia in this hour of night,

Changes, you, unsociable, your appearance and your might,

To whose ideas you're enslaved?

By whose ideas people are your prey?


'Tis a pity, that back then you wouldn't believe me,

That in fact your newest friend is not like everyone!

All alone with him you were,

Knowing naught for ever more...

That he's dangerous for all, you gave not a damn

And you fell!


To a wizard, who's real,

Ruining folks like you, it's his deal!

As a doll, during the night,

He can govern you!


Everything takes place as in a terrible sleep.

And so back to safety I must creep!


12


The sunset on the river is fiery red,

And to me you hurry with sunset in your hand

Crazy and barefooted, to me you hurry, and,

And you generously make your footprints on the sand


The evening shadow does slide upon your tracks,

But as the day will end, water will wash them off,

One cannot just bend and grasp them in one's hand,

As touchy as birds are tracks on the sand.


The sunset burns far away, and, and,

Your footprints remain on the fortunate sand

And boys are correct, that feeling their end,

The immortal seek-out footprints on the sand.


Years and water hurry to age,

But I, as always, for I am a sage,

Rush to the pinkish-red sunset at the river's end,

To watch the waves that lick the footprints on the sand.


13


Sea is windy, sea is stormy,

Sea is full of hurricanes,

Sea is full of drowned boats,

And of really big ships.

All these ships, they all are sinking,

With their anchors, with their sails,

To the sea floor, they're sending

All of their treasure chests,

All of their treasure chests.


All the ships are lying broken,

All the chests are lying open,

All the emeralds and rubies fall like rain from the sky.

If you want to be a rich man,

If you want to have a fortune,

Then you should remain with us,

Stay with us and be our king!

Yes you are going to be our king!


In the sea you'll be wind-sowing,

In the blue sea, in white foam:

Let ships choke in the foam,

Let them sink into the sea.

To the sea floor, they're sinking,

With their anchors, with their sails,

And then you will be the master

All of their treasure chests,

All of their treasure chests.


All the ships are lying broken,

All the chests are lying open,

All the emeralds and rubies fall like rain from the sky.

If you want to be a rich man,

If you want to have a fortune,

Then you should remain with us,

Stay with us and be our king!

Yes you are going to be our king!


14


The terrible Sphinx struck suddenly

Flashing his teeth, flexing his claws,

And pouncing with every bit of life.

And down fell Oedipus, unable to withstand

Quite frightened by this very quick appearance.

Such image and such speech

He barely could imagine - until now.

And yet, although the mighty paws

Of monster did push upon Oedipus' chest,

He quickly gathered strength and no longer

Was scared of the monster, for he knew

The answer beforehand and knew his victory.

And yet the victory for him just wasn't joyous.

His gaze is full with thoughts full of regret,

It doesn't fall on Sphinx, it goes further

Upon Oedipus' path, which goes to Thebes,

And which will end in town called Cologne.

The foreboding tells his spirit clearly

That Sphinx will there talk to him once more,

And those speeches will be that much harder,

Those riddles will have no certain answer.


15


The chilly wind and rain

Oak fears not at all.

No matter what's the weather,

The oak's standing tall.

Until the end of autumn,

An oak will be green.

The tree is quite unshaking

Eeven in times lean.


16


The priests have sang, the gates flung open, delighted

Kneeled the people:

A monstrous horse, with gaudy head, and gilded,

Shines like a sunlit steeple.


Woe to you, Ilion! Populous, mighty, and proud,

Woe to you Ilion!

By priestly roars and by cries of the crowd gone wild,

The cry of Cassandra - the cry of the prophet - is gone!


17


There may be more rain, and more cold wind,

But from warmth and light he is leaving again,

Do not hurry, wait, you can always stop!

But the road beckons, but the road awaits.


What are you searching for, vagabond child,

In country that both G-d and by people forgot?

What's that that lures you over and over?

What is your goal that just must be sought?


As to where he goes, he has no idea,

Apparently that is his doom and his fate,

Maybe there's a world in which he can just fit in,

Maybe there's a smile that is waiting for him.


What are you searching for, vagabond child,

In country that both G-d and by people forgot?

What's that that lures you over and over?

What is your goal that just must be sought?


And the flame of hope is burning,

The road of his will go just on and on.

And it may be raining, and the wind may be blowing,

He may be all alone, but he will be strong.


What are you searching for, vagabond child,

In country that both G-d and by people forgot?

What's that that lures you over and over?

What is your goal that just must be sought?


18


In woods the peacock cries, the rain's crushing down,

The swampy lowlands, the river valleys - flood.

The elephants in mud, they stand, the tusks raised up, not down,

The damp trunks upon the heads just like a hood.


Under the clouds palms less livelier than metal,

And overshadowing the graphite horizon,

From over the woods glares tree-shorn Alagalla,

A grey-coloured mastodon.


19


The sun, to lark, gives strength to sing,

It to the sun flies up and sings.

The lark-bird - of the songbirds' king,

This was decided, when the birds sought kings.

Birds' decision nightingale disregarded,

Angrily it waits until the rise of night.

When the moon comes for all to be quite regarded,

Nightingale sings its ballad with full might.


And the Fairy said: 'Why argue should they now?

Why, what foolishness their solution is!

After the morning there is evening dusk,

Its' own king daybreak and nightfall have must".


20


A tender inhabitant of a green copse,

Eternal favorite of never-ending youth,

Friend and companion of his mother Cypris,

The pleasant Zephyr!


If you had known all of my longings,

You, deliverer of lovers' sighs,

Hearing my cry, would tell the nymph,

That I am dying.


Once I have opened my soul to Phyllis.

Phyllis was touched by heart's hidden despair,

She even loved! But now I am fleeing

The wrath of the beautiful.


The eternal gods with paternal dedication

With humble love, the blessed sky

Will stop, when you are blessed,

The snowstorm!


And let not the gloomy cloud

At time of sunrise, onto the mountain-top

Of your fragile shoulders; may not hail hurt

Your wings forever!


21


Mountains huge and jagged cliffs

Like bones from the ocean rise.

Above them - shore, empty, wild,

Above them - a condor, heavy and tired.


Sunset is gone. Into the cliffs and gaps

Comes night. And pursued by darkness,

Wings overlarge, and body much too skinny,

Onto the cliffs he slowly descends.


And a long cry, a ringing cry of woe,

Sounds throughout, pitying and proud

And freezes in the sky. But not that loud


For the sky to respond. The cliffs and the sands

Are hidden by the night, and from the top does reign

The breath of death, the chill of desert's pain.


22


Today, I can see that your look is especially sad,

Hands - especially thin and embracing the knees.

Listen, then: far away, at Lake Chad

A giraffe walks as it would please.


A particular grace to it has been given as grace,

And a magical pattern indeed decorates its great skin,

Moon itself is alone who can match on the value of face,

Fracturing on the lakes, as its light does dive in.


From afar it does like the colorful sails of ships,

And it gracefully runs, like a flock of great birds in the flight.

And as sun downwards to the ground dips,

In its' grotto of marble hides many an earthly delight.


Fairy tales I know faraway lands,

Of the black maid, of passion of a young chief

But inhaling dark fog - many time you had on your hands,

And you don't believe save in what that does bring you your grief.


And I'll tell you about tropical lands,

About the slim palms, and the unbelievable smell.

Are you crying? Then listen to me... far away, at the Lake Chad

A giraffe is wandering - well.


23


A distant forest stands like a wall,

In the middle of it all,

Owl's sitting on a tree,

Hooting to grass 'Sni-usni'.


People say that grass of sleep,

Has sleeping knowledge that's so deep,

As this knowledge's utilized,

People grow sleepy-wise.


I will now ask the owl,

Give you this grass with a howl:

Among this grass you going to sleep,

And your knowledge will run deep.


24


If life does not

Give you plenty of gifts -

Help others, heal rifts!


Help a stranger, no matter how close,

Give a woman a ride - your name don't disclose.


Don't seek in Bible literary consolation,

Pay back the death, help the next generation.


In life feelings are close,

Like branches of an Apple tree.

You free ones that hang close - farther ones will shake themselves free.


Let at the woman,

That gave you pain,

Have people close and far smile - as to why not explain.


A soul hurt has a secret solace -

As if she was close,

Smile to a distant lass.


25


In the morning, after the night, which has passed

In confusion, pandemonium and suffering,

The sea arose, emitting a cry.

When finally, at last,

The cry died down and fell

Into the dumb fish depth - the sea, at last,

Gave birth.


And the moist foam shone

With the great shame of the tired waves -

And a maid arose, white and moist,

Like a fresh green leaf, when

It spreads or reveals

Its' inner side - thus her body was revealed

On the early virginal wind.


Like moons, appeared

Knees beneath the cloudy thighs,

And the narrow ankles were shadowy;

The feet glowed with tension,

And the joints were active, like throats

Of the thirsty.


In the cupped thighs, the stomach was pink,

Like a freshly picked fruit in a baby's hand.

And in the narrow cup of the smooth bellybutton

Was the entire darkness of this bright life.

The small waves still splashed,

Going up the thighs, from where

A quiet dripping still sounded.

See-through, shadowless,

Like a copse is an April, the maidenhead

Was warm, open and empty.


The live scales of the careful shoulders

Were even already

On the trunk, smooth like a fountain from a cup,

And arms were falling down like streams,

And the hair fell down, voluptuous.


From the shadow of the bent head

Rose the face, revealing -

And immediately was well-lit, locked-in

By the sharp lines of the chin.


Now the neck too became as tense as a beam,

As a stem, which brings juice to the flower,

And arms, like swans' necks,

Were already seeking shore by touch.

The body suddenly entered the morning dawn

Like morning wind, first breath.

And in the tender twigs of the vessels

A whisper grew and blood began to beat,

Filling them to the full.

And the wind gathered strength and with full

Breath he filled the white bosoms

And filled them up, and rubbed at them -

As two sails, going afar,

They brought the maid ashore.


And led her to the ground.


Behind

The one who walked on the new shores

Already shining, morning was arising,

Flowers, grasses, were warm, as if

After embrace. And she was walking on.


But at noon, the heaviest hour, once more

The sea rumbled and onto the shore

A dolphin was cast out - it was dead

Already and bloody.


26


Is it real or imaginary? -

Tantalus stands in a flowing stream;

A powerful thirst has cracked his lips,

A drink is close, but it is poisoned.


Tantalus is up to his neck in Moscow-river,

Up to his neck in Volga and in Ladoga;

Oh, how beautiful are these

Rainbows of oil - but a drink is needed.


There is hunger. And there is plenty

Of fruits of earth on lowered-down branches:

Feast, Tantalus, of what can you be worried?

The food is near, but it is poisoned.


What did you think? That it will be unnoticed,

That you had tried to feed human flesh to the gods?

That you can fool any

Truth - of Earth and Heaven?


But there are such women - the Erinyes,

And vengeance always follows evil.

Wait, Tantalus, wait and think -

You got an eternity in front of you.


27


In the waves his face flashed, all corpse-like,

With a shout, to him jumped she;

And with a shout, all ringing from joy - like -

Did two sea gulls fly, quite free.


Hal-cy-one! Love does conquer all!

Hal-cy-one! Death may take its' toll!

Hal-cy-one! Do not fear it!

Hal-cy-one! To love, death is sh*t!


Wintertime, the seashore's wild,

Sea-swells are both salty and cold.

What is a better place for nestling/child

To grow-up both strong and bold?


Hal-cy-one! Love does conquer all!

Hal-cy-one! Death may take its' toll!

Hal-cy-one! Do not fear it!

Hal-cy-one! To love, death is sh*t!


For a week, Halcyone stops singing,

For a week, the winds do stop their ringing;

Ships are spared, sea is silver-calm,

In the steppe, oxen chew their gum,

Halcyone nests this week in peace;

For his grandkids, Aeolus spares Greece.


Aeolus! Look on your descendants!

Aeolus! Death's toll's antedesendant!

Aeolus! Father to a bird!

Aeolus! What he promised, he kept word!


28


Scattered fiery seeds

Grow globally, without end.

The stars - the Maker's deeds -

Make one feel reverend.


But by midnight, in the East does rises,

The Saturn dead, and glistening as lead:

You, Creator, are full of surprises,

Which are vicious and mad!


29


Abandoning the damp bed, the gold-haired Phoebus has sent

The fast moving horses, the bane of Phaeton, after pink Eos,

Holding fast the reins, he looked around and immediately

His sharp gaze fell onto the empty shore.

There the fog rolled as from a sacrifice; the sea

Was quietly sleeping next to the empty shore; the broken boat,

Being upside down, half in the water, half

In the morning's air, was darkened by black tar - and also here,

On the left, the shards of broken fir-wood oars were scattered,

Ditto for a leather helm and shield, both full of duckweed.

Further, when the grey fog did disperse,

He saw on the grass, beneath the green cover of a chestnut,

(Having wound around it thrice, a wild grape was decking it), -

He saw the youth on the grass; the snow-white limbs

Were spread, with the right arm he seemingly pushed

His chest, and the handsome body was lying on it,

The left arm was cast askew, and the fair skin on dark

Green fragrant grass was seen in all its fairness;

The clothing was all ripped; the rounded thighs were white,

Like marble, which is shaped by a carver's arm,

The legs were showing-off their dusty feet,

The curly white hair was falling to the chest, framing

The dead strength of the face and a deeply fatal wound.


30


A ring of fire does surround me,

It nears, and to death it does me sentence -

Because disgusting I was born to be,

For, as a scorpion, I do lack the sentience.


My enemies look on from every side,

Nightmare, which is fatal and forever -

No escape, death is on every side,

A fire can't be beat without a lever.


But hark, however terrible for me

Relentless breath of fire,

I know just one thing, before I do expire:


I die. So what. I did challenge my fate.

In my own self did I find me doom.

A scorpion I die - both free and proud.


31


And long we went through the tableland,

'Around did cliffs arise,

And as we passed through foggy band,

Sweat covered our eyes.

Then suddenly a steep did gape -

Black underneath the sun.

And from its' depth - like murmur of silk cape,

Came the voice of the great Ocean.

And there, like to Jesus Christ,

We were visited by Satan.


And Satan spoke, "have ye faith?"

And this was early March.

And from the cliffs that stood like guards

Came a blizzard, like Ms. Barch.

And then we saw, from a mountain-peak,

That the blizzard softened instead

The snows that did shine in the East,

So woolly white, like hair of some beast,

And there, over clouds, in the range,

Our spirit guide asked: "you believe in Atlant?"


We stood upon the cliff; the mighty wind

Did its' best shot, trying to bring us down.

The pines growing in the steep, stood straight, just like a crown.

And Ocean, exhaled once, and it was like a sign,

And then we yelled, for we then knew:

"Yeah, we believe in the Titan!

Get behind us Satan, your wind may or not blew -

We're rooted to ground like Atlant!

And perplex us you no longer can't -

For the truth - like the sun - is radiant!"


32


In the waves his face flashed, all corpse-like,

With a shout, to him jumped she;

And with a shout, all ringing from joy - like -

Did two sea gulls fly, quite free.

Wintertime, the seashore's wild,

Sea-swells are both salty and cold.

What is a better place for nestling/child

To grow-up both strong and bold?

or a week, Halcyone stops singing,

For a week, the winds do stop their ringing;

Ships are spared, sea is silver-calm,

In the steppe, oxen chew their gum,

Halcyone nests this week in peace;

For his grandkids, Aeolus spares Greece.


33


When Thetis was marrying Peleus,

During the wedding feast, in the midst of merryment,

Up rose Apollo and said to the newlyweds

A promise of a son, a splending hero.

"Diseases will be inaffective before him,

Until the very death in the old age," the god said.

Thetis rejoice, hearing those speeches.

The words of prognosticating Apollo

Seemed to be a promised hope

Towards her aging son. And as Achilles aged,

And all of Thessaly rejoiced in his beauty,

Thetis remembered that prophecy.

But once the elders came to her

With news that Achilles died at Troy.

Her royal purple clothes

Thetis tore and threw to the ground

Bracelets and rings, but suddenly, remembering

The prophecy, she asked the elders:

"Where was the wise Apollo

The grandiouse poet at the feast

Where he was, forgetting the prophecy

When her Achilles died in the peak of years?"

And the elders replied that Apollo

Came to the Trojan battlefield himself

And killed Achilles alongside the Trojans.