Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Translation of Poem by Ivan Bunin, И. А. БУНИН, "МОГИЛА В СКАЛЕ," "The Tomb in the Cliff"

 


 

И. А. БУНИН

(1870-1953)

 

МОГИЛА В СКАЛЕ

То было в полдень, в Нубии, на Ниле.
Пробили вход, затеплили огни —
И на полу преддверия, в тени,
На голубом и тонком слое пыли,
Нашли живой и четкий след ступни.

Я, путник, видел это. Я в могиле
Дышал теплом сухих камней. Они
Сокрытое пять тысяч лет хранили.

Был некий день, был некий краткий час,
Прощальный миг, когда в последний раз
Вздохнул здесь тот, кто узкою стопою
В атласный прах вдавил свой узкий след.

Тот миг воскрес. И на пять тысяч лет
Умножил жизнь, мне данную судьбою.

6.VIII.09

August 6, 1909

d

Literal Translation

The Grave in the Rock

 

It was midday, in Nubia, on the Nile.

They broke through the entrance, lit torches;

And on the floor of the vestibule, in the shade,

In a thin and light-blue layer of dust,

They found a distinct and living trace of a footprint.

 

I, a traveler, saw that. In the tomb

I breathed the warmth of dry stones. They

Had preserved what was hidden for five thousand years.

 

There was a certain day, there was a certain brief moment,

A valedictory second, when for the last time

Sighed here the one whose narrow foot

Pressed its narrow trace into the satiny dust.

 

That second was resurrected. And by five thousand years

Was multiplied the life granted to me by fate.

 

d

 

Literary Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie

 

The Tomb in the Cliff

 

On the Nile, in Nubia, the sun shone on midday.

They broke into the entrance, torches lit.

And on the floor of vestibule, a shady bit,

In thin and light-blue layer of dust there lay

A clear and living footprint, faint with grit.

 

I, a traveler, saw that print, torchlit.

Within the tomb I breathed the warmth of stones

That hid five thousand years the sight of it.

 

A certain day once was, a short-lived hour,

When here, the final time, in farewell’s flower,

He sighed, the one whose narrow footstep gleams,  

Pressed down in narrow trace on satin dust.

 

That hour resurrected, five thousand years I must

Make as my own, embrace all eons’ fondest dreams.  

 


 


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