Роберт
Рождественский
(1932-1994)
Mгновения
Не думай о секундах свысока.
Наступит время, сам поймешь, наверное, -
свистят они,
как пули у виска,
мгновения,
мгновения,
мгновения.
У каждого мгновенья свой резон,
свои колокола,
своя отметина,
Мгновенья раздают - кому позор,
кому бесславье, а кому бессмертие.
Мгновения спрессованы в года,
Мгновения спрессованы в столетия.
И я не понимаю иногда,
где первое мгновенье,
где последнее.
Из крохотных мгновений соткан дождь.
Течет с небес вода обыкновенная.
И ты, порой, почти полжизни ждешь,
когда оно придет, твое мгновение.
Придет оно, большое, как глоток,
глоток воды во время зноя летнего.
А в общем,
надо просто помнить долг
от первого мгновенья
до последнего.
Не думай о секундах свысока.
Наступит время, сам поймешь, наверное, -
свистят они,
как пули у виска,
мгновения,
мгновения,
мгновения.
1973
d
Literal Translation
Fleeting Instants
Don’t think of the seconds in a patronizing way.
The time will come, you yourself will surely understand;
They whistle
Like bullets past your temples,
The fleeting instants,
Instants,
Instants.
Each instant has its reason,
Its bells,
Its birthmark,
The instants pass things out—to one person shame,
To another infamy, and to another immortality.
Instants are compressed into years,
Instants are compressed into centuries.
And sometimes I don’t understand,
Where the first instant is,
Where the last.
Rain is woven out of minuscule bits of instants.
From the skies ordinary water flows.
And you, sometimes, almost half your life are
waiting
For it to arrive, your instant.
It will come, very large, like a gulp,
A gulp of water in the time of searing summer heat.
But in general,
You must simply remember your duty
From the first instant
To the last.
Don’t think of the seconds in a patronizing way.
The time will come, you yourself will surely understand;
They whistle
Like bullets past your temples,
The fleeting instants,
Instants,
Instants.
d
Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
Evanescence
Don’t look down your nose condescending
At seconds that flow by, retreating,
The time when you’ll see is impending
That seconds, they shriek past your ears
Like bullets past lives in arrears:
Fleeting instants, whining, bleating,
Fleetingly, fleetingly,
Fleeting.
Each instant in fleeting has something to say,
Has its own precious bells to clang-bong.
On its brow has its own unique birthmark display,
In fleeting an instant sings destiny’s song:
One gal gets shame,
One guy gets infamy,
One gal/gay/guy gets immortality.
Mash all the instants together in years,
Mash up some more into centuries.
I can’t comprehend how the years turn to smears:
Where’s the first instance of a fleeting instant?
Where’s the last of the eye-blinkings, huh?
Instants all teetoncey woven together make rain.
Anodyne waters flow down from the skies.
While, meanwhile, half of a lifetime in vain
You wait for one eye blink humongous-kingsize.
Where are you, O my pivotal, crucial One-Instant?
Big and galumphing, like a gulp down your throat, here it comes!
A quaff of cool water—guzzle-glug—
In the midst of a searing heat wave.
But, generally speaking, all’s you gots to do—
From your first fleeting instant
To your last transient trice—
You gots to simply know, my friend,
What your job is here on earth.
I.e., know your duty, dog, and do it.
That’s all.
Don’t look down your nose condescending
At seconds that flow by, retreating,
The time when you’ll see is impending
That seconds, they shriek past your ears
Like bullets past lives in arrears:
Fleeting instants, whimpering, bleating,
Flitting past fleetingly,
Fleeting.
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