Monday, July 4, 2022

"Gogol-Mogol’s Ogre" Mandelstam Poem Freely Translated and Updated to the Year 2022

                                                       Illustration to Gogol story "Вий"

Osip Mandelstam

(1891-1938)

 

Как по улицам Киева-Вия

Ищет мужа не знаю чья жинка,

И на щеки ее восковые

Ни одна не скатилась слезинка.

 

Не гадают цыганочки кралям,

Не играют в Купеческом скрипки,

На Крещатике лошади пали,

Пахнут смертью господские Липки.

 

Уходили с последним трамваем

Прямо за город красноармейцы,

И шинель прокричала сырая:

"Мы вернемся еще - разумейте..."

 

May, 1937. Voronezh

d

 

Literal Translation

(The Russian original is rhymed and metered, all feminine rhymes a/b/a/b)

As along the streets of Kiev-Vij

Some wifey, I don’t know whose, searches for her husband,

And onto her waxen cheeks

Not a single tear flowed down.

 

The gypsy lassies aren’t telling fortunes for the floozies,

The fiddles aren’t playing in the Kupechesky Gardens,

On Kreshchatik Street horses have fallen,

And affluent Lipki smells of death.

 

They’ve departed along with the last tram car,

The Red Army soldiers have absconded from the city,

And a damp greatcoat screamed out:

“We’ll be back again; count on that.”

 

d

 

U.R. Bowie

Mandelstam’s Poem Freely Translated and Updated to the Year 2022

Gogol-Mogol’s Ogre

In Kiev-town, now Vyiv monstrous,

Where Gogol-Mogol’s ogre reigns,

Some little wifey, don’t know whose,

In search of hubby wanders lost.

While down her cheeks, her waxy cheeks,

Trickles not one tiny teary wetly.

 

No more floozies getting fortunes told from gypsies.

No more fiddles twanging tunes around Kupechesky.

On the main drag of Kreshchatik fallen horses,

In environs what was tanks is now scrap-metal; rusting.

There’s a smell where rich folks live in Lipki:

Of Death.

 

Russian soldiers blew their campaign to take Kyiv.

They’re making tracks for some spot nearer Mother Rus,

While a greatcoat that came straight from Gogolmogol Land,

Rumpled up and soaked with kerosene,

Shrieks:

“Make no mistake, you Ukies; we’ll be back!”

 

d

 

Translator’s Notes

Place names. The Kupechesky Gardens is now Kreshchaty Park. Kreshchatik (now spelled Kreshchatyk by Ukrainians) is the main street of Kiev (Kyiv). On Lipki (Lypky) from Wikipedia:

Lypky (UkrainianЛипки) is a historic neighborhood of the Ukrainian capital Kyiv located in the administrative Pecherskyi District. The name is derived from a lime tree (linden tree, Lypa). Lypky is the de facto government quarter of Ukraine, hosting the buildings of the Verkhovna Rada (Parliament), Presidential Administration and Government. In the nineteenth century Lypky was already known as an elite district. Geographically Lypky is considered to be part of Pechersk, yet it is located between the Old Kyiv neighborhood (bordering by Khreshchatyk) and the Pechersk neighborhood across the Klov descent and Mechnikov Street. The streets of Lypky were the scenes of the most bloody episodes of the Euromaidan revolution (2013-2014).

d

Nikolai Gogol is the most famous Ukrainian firmly ensconced in Russian literature. In the first line of Mandelstam’s poem Vij—often spelled Viy in English translations—is the monster in Gogol’s ghost story of that title. The greatcoat in the final stanza is another allusion to Gogol, to his most famous story of all: the phantasmagoric tale “The Greatcoat,” sometimes translated as “The Overcoat.”

This poem, apparently the last written during Mandelstam’s exile in Voronezh, describes what was going on during the Civil War—in Kiev in 1919—when he was in the city with his future wife Nadezhda. In her memoir, Hope Abandoned, she describes the situation as follows. “One day, just before we left, when they were shooting hostages, we looked out of the window . . . and saw a cart piled with naked corpses. Some matting had been carelessly thrown on top of them, but limbs were sticking out in all directions.”

In his memoir, People, Years, Life, the writer Ilya Ehrenburg, writes, “I saw him on that day (in 1919) when the Red Army was evacuating Kiev (later he was to write about how ‘no more floozies were getting fortunes told by gypsy women . . .’). Together with him I survived a pogrom one night.”

Mandelstam and Nadezhda made it out of Kiev safely in 1919, but a perilous future awaited them. He was an “internal émigré” almost from the very beginning of Soviet times. In 1934, after someone denounced him for his poem criticizing Stalin—an act so reckless that Pasternak called it suicidal—Mandelstam was arrested for the first time. After his release the brutal interrogations had so unsettled his psyche that he twice attempted suicide.

A three-year exile in Voronezh ended in May, 1937—Nadezhda was still with him. He had only a year and a half to live. Re-arrested in May, 1938, he was sentenced to five years in a concentration camp. He died in December of 1938 at a transit camp in the Far East, near Vladivostok.

d

Now, in the year 2022, when we were naïve enough to think that such horror, violence and repression of innocents would never happen again in Russia or Ukraine, this, and even worse, is happening all over again. It’s almost as if the Deity above had sent down some decree: Russian and Ukrainian history will be, perpetually, drenched in gore and blood. Or is it, rather, human history?


                               Illustration by Mikhail Mikeshin to the Gogol Story "Вий"


No comments:

Post a Comment