Translation of Poem by Иннокентий Анненский, Innokenty Annensky, "DECRESCENDO"

 

Иннокентий Анненский

(1855-1909)

Decrescendo

Из тучи с тучей в безумном споре
Родится шквал, —
Под ним зыбучий в пустынном море
Вскипает вал.

Он полон страсти, он мчится гневный,
Грозя брегам.
А вслед из пастей за ним стозевный
И рев и гам…

То, как железный, он канет в бездны
И роет муть,
То, бык могучий, нацелит тучи
Хвостом хлестнуть…

Но ближе… ближе, и вал уж ниже,
Не стало сил,
К ладье воздушной хребет послушный
Он наклонил…

И вот чуть плещет, кружа осадок,
А гнев иссяк…
Песок так мягок, припек так гладок:
Плесни — и ляг!

1910 ?

 Decrescendo: Ослабевая (ит.) – музыкальный термин, означающий постепенное убывание звучности.

d

 

Literal Translation

 

Decrescendo

 

From storm cloud to storm cloud in a frenetic squabble

A squall is born.

Beneath it, rippling on the empty sea,

A billow surges up.

 

Full of passion, it hurtles on angrily,

Threatening the shores.

Following after it come, gaping in the hundreds,

Maws of dins and roars.

 

Now, as if made of iron, it slices into the abysses

And churns up the muck,

Now, a mighty bull, it takes aim at the storm clouds,

To lash [them] with its tail.

 

But nearer and nearer, and the billow is lower now,

Its energies expended.

Toward an airy [buoyant] boat it bows

Its obedient crag. . .

 

And now it barely makes splashes, swirling sediment about,

Its fury has waned. . .

The sand is so soft, blazing sunspots so smooth:

Just one last splash and lie down!

 

d

 

Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie

 

Decrescendo

 

Cloud crashes storm cloud, O my, what a clamor,

A squall is born.

From empty sea rippling, with clangorous clangor,

A billow is torn.

 

The billow’s all fervor-crazed, hurtles frenetically,

Threatens the shores.

Foaming maws gaping in hundreds splenetically,

Din-maws and roars.

 

Billow like steel blade slashes abysses,

Churns up the muck.

Lightning bull snorting, its tail all twitches

To lash clouds amuck. 

 

But nearer now, nearer, the billow’s much lower,

Its forces are sapped.

A boat on the billow is blown ever slower,

Not so billow-whapped.

 

And now things are splashy and sediment swirly,

The fury has waned . . .

The beach sand is soft and the sunlight all twirly,

Last splash, and squall’s drained!