[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
Кричат перепела.
Должно быть, вечереет.
Глаз ястреба померк.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1963-1964
Enigma


Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1963-1964
Enigma
At the Nile at night, at the Nile,
where the stars hang down into your mouth
and your dry heart us moist once again,

in the Egyptian night,
where you never have been before, but soon will be,
in order to give the Sphinx your answer.

In the blue night,
as in an eternally open mouth the desert's tongue
seeks your moisture.
If it burns you up,
your exhausted gasp
will resemble my answer.

Life of my life,
savage mouth
that takes the breath away
and no longer allows a memory,
let me be myself,
let me be with you.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Из путевого дневника «Письма странствующего поэта»*
Флейта Санэмори
Храм Сумадэ́ра.
Слышу, флейта играет сама собой
В темной гуще деревьев.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

* В оригинале этот дневник носит название «Ои-но кобуми», то есть письма из ои — небольшой сумы, которую буддийские монахи носили на шее. В ней хранились священные изображения и дорожные принадлежности.

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1963-1964
Das deutsche Wunder
Frühmorgens, wenn
Fruchtlieferwagen durch due Stadt
poltern. wenn die S-Bahn
durch dein Bett fährt
und die Einflug schneise
tiefer hängt als sonst,

mußt du, du mußt,
du kannst nicht schlafen,

frühmorgens, wenn die
Amerikaner im geteilten
Berlin das Manöver beginnen,
wenn die Schüsse fallen, als
ging es an,

mußt du, aber du mußt nicht
du kannst auch schlafen.

Frühmorgens, wenn es hell
ist und im Tiergarten
die Generäle ihren Bauch
vorstrecken, auf den Ton
gefallen ist, mußt du
schließlich einmal wieder einschlafen.

Du schläfst, schläfst, es ist
eine Geschichte, Geschichte nicht,
deutbar. Da schläfst du besser ein.

Geheimdienste Flüchtlinge
wenn die ersten
Worte laut werden, dann
aber schläfst
du, hast
für Worte
nichts übrig

Frühmorgens
wenn die Prozesse
beginnen und die
sanften Gesicher
der Mörder und
die urteilsprechenden
Richter einander
vermeiden,
wenn ein Flugzeug-
flügel dein
Haar streift,
wenn du
deinen Korridor
findest, in
den Tod, in
die Abgeschiendenheit
ins Vergessen
dann schläfst
du, beim Gong-
schlag, und
sie sprechen über
den schlaf wie
über ein Wunder.

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1963-1964
The German Miracle
I
Early in the morning, when
fruit wagons rumble
through the city, when the subway
travels through your bed
and the incoming flight lanes
are lower than usual,

you must, you must,
you cannot sleep.

Early in the morning, when the
Americans in divided
Berlin begin their maneuvers,
when shots fire as if
it was starting,

you must join in, but need not,
for you may also sleep.

Early in the morning, when
it's bright and in the park
the generals stretch out
their stomachs, when the alarm
sounds, you must
finally sleep once again.

You sleep, sleep, it is part
of a story, not history:
Therefore it's better you sleep.

II
Secret agents,
refugees,
when the first
words are spoken, then
you sleep,
having no use
for words.

Early in the morning
when the trials
begin and the
soft faces
of the murderers and
the sentencing
judges avoid
each other,
when an airplane
wing grazes
your hair,
when you
find
your corridor
into death, into
seclusion,
into forgetting,
then you will
sleep at the strike
of the gong, as
they speak
about sleep
like a miracle.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Из путевого дневника "Кости, белеющие в поле"
На могиле императора Годайго*
На забытом могильном холме
«Печаль-трава» разрослась… О чем
Печалишься ты, трава?

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

* Могила императора-изгнанника Годайго (1288–1339) находится в горах Ёсино, в нынешней префектуре Нара.

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963


Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
How difficult it is to forgive,
such a long and tiresome business
with which I have been preoccupied
for so many years.

Hatred has made me sick.
I've been disfigured, these abscesses
check me, show that
I still live among humans.

I only know that I must
not hate so much anymore,
not hope for your death,
which I really don't hope for,
nor by my hand.

I have learned that I must
love my enemies, and
this is so easy, for how
can my enemies do anything
worse than evil to me.
If a bullet misses,
if someone spits in my face,
like yesterday, I have no objection
to the love that is prescribed for me.

I am afraid of the love
that you have instilled in me
with the most horrible of intents.
Completely riven by burning acids,
from so much arsenic, opium,
completely numbed by my destruction.

Thus I no longer live in you
and am already dead, where I am.
I count the bars, hang on,
eat twice a day, then
grant myself reprieve,
beg for the means
which will sink me into sleep for a year.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
На старом поле битвы
Летние травы
Там, где исчезли герои,
Как сновиденье.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963
Enigma

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
Enigma
So we might die, still together,
that part of us will no longer be remembered
being what no one can take away. Art,
a dirty business
with words, will be paid its honorarium.
Once I lay at the edge of the forest
and held a pair of scribbled pages
as pure and absolute, and they were that as well.
I feel the same again when I
wee what they engage in with words.
For the love of God, that means for the meadow
and ants and swarms of gnats, to tolerate them
absolutely.
The small bites have not bothered me at all.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
Тишина кругом.
Проникает в сердце скал
Легкий звон цикад.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963


Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
So we might die
still together, for that to be,
your house must still
remain my house.
I must come and go from there,
remain there,
for it to seem right,
since otherwise no one will see
what your weary eyes
find at night, only I will,
for I know it, therefore the house
must also e my house
forever, where
I also am, I must
settle the evening
and one's thoughts, help them
go to sleep.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
Воробышки над окном
Пищат, а им отзываются
Мыши на чердаке.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963


Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
It occurs to me what the last days mean.
From the highest floor I look into the depths,
from the highest tone I glide to the sound below,
and on the pigeons there appears the grey sweetness.
Is there no on there to tell me to step back from the window?
Beneath the terraces live the wounded depths, the glowing canyon of the street below.

No word saves me, no hand reaches out to me.
He writes not another word in his book of blood.

Each moment has its sweet depth.

The drafts of a purer time.

Meanwhile they open this book of blood.
From each balustrade I look into the depths.
The men abandon a woman
who was also rejected by friends.
I still want to sleep, and whoever will watch over me
will make my eye shine.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Из путевого дневника «Письма странствующего поэта»*
Провожу ночь на корабле в бухте Акаси
В ловушке осьминог.
Он видит сон — такой короткий!
Под летнею луной.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

* В оригинале этот дневник носит название «Ои-но кобуми», то есть письма из ои — небольшой сумы, которую буддийские монахи носили на шее. В ней хранились священные изображения и дорожные принадлежности.

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963
Ein Neues Leben

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
A New Life
A new life. Who, since I have none,
would like a new life? The monotone
repetition of a mystery novel,
one that others leaf through, but in which
someone lives,
completely within,
without a new life, that much is certain.

transl. by Peter Filkins

@темы: b, 20, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
Звонко долбит
Столб одинокой хижины
Дятел лесной.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963
Tot ist alles*. Alles tot.
Und das Aug ist augelaufen, Augen, seid ihr ausgelaufen,

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
Dead is everything. Everything is dead. *
And the eye runs, eyes, you run,
all images swimming away,
and ears, now you only hear screams,
birds fall from roof,
all hoses collapse,
planes fall from sky,
heart after heart beats madly,
one after another dies.

So die and do so quietly,
gently and softly,**
don't you see, my friends, don't you see?

All celebrations end differently, the celebration of death
in life suddenly reappears in a thousand images
laid out on the bed, and the bed
full of oil and salve, vomit, gasps,
hemorrhaging, and heart failure is its battle zone,
as the vials are hurried into the syringes
and they bore the needle into your flesh, and
into the veins it drops, the flow spreading
into the muscles, coming to life.

And I hear: continue dying, continue living,
continue dying, ah, the day is dawning
and the sun lies on the cliffs, and the solarium
is empty, there I lie, I eat and smoke,
and I believe that I am not
alone, though I certainly was then.

transl. by Peter Filkins

* Dead is everything. Everything is dead - почти точная цитата из арии Короля Марка из оперы "Тристан и Изольда", в которой он оплакивает смерть Тристана

Tot denn alles! by Matti Salminen

Tot denn alles! by Matti Salminen


**Mild und Leise, Gently and Softly are the opening words to Isolde's final monologue before she expires over the body of Tristan in Wagner's opera.
помимо цитат из предсмертной арии Изольды, Liebestod, есть дополнительные аллюзии на всю оперу "Тристан и Изольда"

Liebestod sung by Waltraud Meier

Liebestod singed by Waltraud Meier

@темы: music, deutsche, b, 20, youtube, w, 19, tristan und isolde, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Из путевого дневника «Письма странствующего поэта»*
Рыбаки пугают ворон.
Под нацеленным острием стрелы
Кукушки тревожный крик.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

* В оригинале этот дневник носит название «Ои-но кобуми», то есть письма из ои — небольшой сумы, которую буддийские монахи носили на шее. В ней хранились священные изображения и дорожные принадлежности.

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963
Habet acht*

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
Watch Out*
Let me die.
Playing cards at night
is not for me,
nor is chatting,
sitting in houses
with friends. Don't you sense
it, my friends, don't you see?

Watch out, the day
will come again. Suffer
no more as just anyone
would suffer, yet still make sure
to watch out.

Gently and softly, ------
no one, gently and softly
it happens, my friends,
don't you see? So much time
has already passed, and yet
the time does not disappear.

Gently and softly, how that sounds,
how it still sounds and to everyone
I cannot say, yet say it again.
Black is the sail, tightly lashed,
no more world, only the one,
like the eye, how it lives,
how I live, only in fear,
only in closing it, an eye for an eye.

Who can set things right, no one.
One can die, yes, but it's so far off,
and there's no question, no answer,
don't you see, my friends, don't you
see?

At night it becomes brighter,
as it's drunken in it becomes more true. Drink
up, drink up again, seen eye
to eye it will turn true, and the
end is not percievable, painless,
where indeed there had been so much pain, for once
strangled, everything will turn true, be settled, be it possessions, cash.

No talk, no work,
no vengeance awakens me.
Only the eye awakens me,
the murmur awakens me,
plunging from a window, screaming,
falling down, expiring,
gently and softly, as I say again,
say no longer, wake
me.

transl. by Peter Filkins

*Habet acht, Watch Out стихотворение содержит цитаты и аллюзии на оперу "Тристан и Изольда": на предсмертную арию Изольды, Liebestod (Mild und Leise); а еще название является прямой цитатой из реплик Брангене, служанки Изольды, из второго акта оперы, в которых она предупреждает Тристана и Изольду о приближении рассвета, о том, что время на их встречу на исходе.
Laßt mich sterben (Let me die) - реплики Тристана и Изольды из второго акта, в котором они решают предпочесть смерть жизни.

Liebestod singed by Waltraud Meier

Liebestod singed by Waltraud Meier

@темы: music, deutsche, b, 20, youtube, w, 19, tristan und isolde, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg

---

[Lika_k]

Мацуо Басё
Трехстишия
Луна шестнадцатой ночи
Так легко-легко
Выплыла — и в облаке
Задумалась луна.

("По тропинкам севера: стихи из путевого дневника", 2017)

Пер. В. Маркова

@темы: б, japanese, 17, eastern, basho, matsuo

---

[Lika_k]

Ingeborg Bachmann
Gedichte 1962-1963
Trostarie
Tot is alles, alles tot.
Gerichtet ist jeder Ort, jeder Gegenstand, jedes halbflügge gefühl,
das mich vermisst und mir nicht mehr
Rechnung trägt. Ich habe mich eingeschrieben in dich für Lebzeiten
das ist nicht auszutragen,

Ingeborg Bachmann
The Collected Poems
Poems 1962-1963
Consolation Aria
Dead is everything, everything dead.*
Condemned is each place, each thing, each half-baked feeling
that passes by me and which I no longer
take into account. I have registered for a life sentence with you
that cannot be carried out.

transl. by Peter Filkins

* Dead is everything. Everything is dead - почти точная цитата из арии Короля Марка из оперы "Тристан и Изольда", в которой он оплакивает смерть Тристана

Tot denn alles! by Matti Salminen

Tot denn alles! by Matti Salminen

@темы: music, deutsche, b, 20, youtube, w, 19, tristan und isolde, deutsche-oesterreichisch, bachmann, ingeborg