Translation of Poem by Fyodor Tyutchev, SPRING THUNDERSTORM, Весенняя гроза

 

 

Fyodor Tyutchev

(1803-1873)

 

Весенняя гроза

 

Люблю грозу в начале мая,
Когда весенний, первый гром,
Как бы резвяся и играя,
Грохочет в небе голубом.

Гремят раскаты молодые,
Вот дождик брызнул, пыль летит,
Повисли перлы дождевые,
И солнце нити золотит.

С горы бежит поток проворный,
В лесу не молкнет птичий гам,
И гам лесной и шум нагорный –
Все вторит весело громам.

Ты скажешь: ветреная Геба,
Кормя Зевесова орла,
Громокипящий кубок с неба,
Смеясь, на землю пролила.

Date of poem: 1828, later revised at beginning of 1850s

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Literal Translation

 

Spring Thunderstorm

 

I love a thunderstorm at the beginning of May,

When the first spring thunder,

As if frolicking and playing,

Rumbles in a light blue sky.

 

The young peals of thunder rattle,

The raindrops drizzled, dust flies,

Pearls of rain are hanging,

And sunshine gilds the threads.

 

From the mountain runs down a nimble torrent,

The clamor of birds in the forest goes on unceasingly,

And the clamor of the woods and sounds on the hillside

Keep merrily seconding the thunder claps.

 

You’ll say: empty-headed Hebe,

While feeding Zeus’s eagle,

Laughing, a cup seething with thunder

Poured out from heaven over the earth.

 

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Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie

 

Spring Thunderstorm

 

I love in early May a cloudburst,

When spring’s first thunder, meek and humble,

As if at play, in storms unversed, 

Through azure skies vents muted rumble.

 

The callow peals of mumbling thunder,

Then spits of rain strew errant dust,

And liquid pearls hang rapt with wonder,

As sunshine gilds wet threads nonplussed.

 

From mountainside a swift stream flows,

The forest birds cheep-twit and chatter, 

The woods and hills in clamor’s throes

Keep jocund time with thunder’s clatter.

 

While feeding Zeus’ eagle, beaming

Playful Hebe, steeped in mirth,

Took cup with din and bedlam teeming,  

And, laughing, poured it over Earth.

 

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Unmetered, Unrhymed Translation by Frank Jude

A Spring Storm

I love May’s first storms:
chuckling, sporting spring
grumbles in mock anger;
young thunder claps,

a spatter of rain and flying dust
and wet pearls hanging
threaded by sun-gold;
a speedy current scampers from the hills.

Such a commotion in the woods!
Noises cartwheel down the mountains.
Every sound is echoed round the sky.
You’d think capricious Hebe,

feeding the eagle of Zeus,
had raised a thunder-foaming goblet,
unable to restrain her mirth,
and tipped it on the earth.

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Early Variant (1829)

Люблю грозу в начале мая:

Как весело весенний гром

Из края до другого края

Грохочет в небе голубом!

 

С горы бежит ручей проворный,

В лесу не молкнет птичий гам,

И говор птиц, и ключ нагорный –

Все вторит радостно громам!

 

(Second stanza of final variant is missing; third and final stanza here—I have not typed it out—is identical to fourth and last stanza in final variant.)

 

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Translator’s Note

So what’s the best way to translate a poem in Russian that has meter and rhyme in the original? My method is to try getting meter and rhyme into the new poem in English. But since some time in the early twentieth century, many have denigrated what they consider the old-fashioned way of meter and rhyme in poetry. I understand what they are saying. Meter, and especially rhyme, can stand over the translator with a whip, forcing him into making changes that often pull the poem away from its original semantic meanings. I find rhyming to be the biggest tyrant of all.

 That’s why I include the fine translation by Frank Jude above. Although his method of translation (no rhymes, no meter) is diametrically opposed to mine, in my opinion he has done a good job of rendering Tyutchev’s famous poem into English. By throwing off the chains of meter and rhyme, he, for the most part, is able to keep the translation closer in exact meanings of words to the original. I would suggest only one change, easily made. Give Hebe her laughter (which is in the original) by rendering the final line as follows: “and tipped it, laughing, onto Earth.”

U.R. Bowie

 

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A Note from Annotations to the Poem in Two-Volume Set of Tyutchev’s Works (Nauka Publishers, 1965)

 In Greek mythology Hebe is the goddess of eternal youth, serving as cupbearer at meals for the gods of Olympus. She is often depicted in paintings as caressing Zeus’ eagle and bringing him nectar (ambrosia) in a goblet. In both art and poetry of the early 19^th Century the image of Hebe is widespread. In the present poem Tyutchev allows himself something of an arbitrary variant of the myth. The poet depicts his Hebe not as bearing a cup full of ambrosia, the drink of the gods, but a cup teeming with thunderclaps. This suggests that Hebe here has taken on the function of Zeus’ eagle, who is frequently depicted squeezing a bolt of lightning in his claws.