Анна Ахматова
(1889-1966)
Умирая, томлюсь о
бессмертье.
Низко облако пыльной мглы...
Пусть хоть голые красные черти,
Пусть хоть чан зловонной смолы.
Приползайте ко
мне, лукавьте,
Угрозы из ветхих книг,
Только память вы мне оставьте,
Только память в последний миг.
Чтоб в
томительной веренице
Не чужим показался ты,
Я готова платить сторицей
За улыбки и за мечты.
Смертный час,
наклонясь, напоит
Прозрачной сулемой.
А люди придут, зароют
Мое тело и голос мой.
1912, Tsarskoe Selo
d
Literal
Translation by Judith Hemschemeyer
(with slight amendments in brackets by URB)
Dying, I am tormented by
immortality.
There’s a low-hanging cloud of dusty haze . . .
Let there be [at least] naked red devils,
Let there be [at least] vats of stinking pitch.
Crawl up to me, play your tricks,
Your [You] threats from antiquated books,
Only leave me my memory,
Only, at the last gasp, my memory.
So that you won’t be [seem] a
stranger to me
In the agonizing line,
I am ready to pay a hundredfold
For a smile and for a dream [for some smiles and daydreams].
The hour of death, bowing, [bending
down] slakes my thirst [will give me to drink]
With clear, corrosive lye. [transparent corrosive lye]
And people [will] come and bury
My body and my voice.
d
(with slight amendments in brackets by URB)
There’s a low-hanging cloud of dusty haze . . .
Let there be [at least] naked red devils,
Let there be [at least] vats of stinking pitch.
Your [You] threats from antiquated books,
Only leave me my memory,
Only, at the last gasp, my memory.
In the agonizing line,
I am ready to pay a hundredfold
For a smile and for a dream [for some smiles and daydreams].
With clear, corrosive lye. [transparent corrosive lye]
And people [will] come and bury
My body and my voice.
Literary
Translation/Adaptation by U.R. Bowie
While dying I long for immortal
life’s revels,
A cloud of dusty mist descends from afar . . .
So what if there’s nothing but naked red devils,
Or naught but a vat full of foul-smelling tar?
Crawl your way up to me,
prestidigitate,
All you threats from an old-testament tome,
But leave me my memory intact and illimitate,
Just a last fleeting glimpse of memorial loam.
In that wearisome queue at my
bier,
So that you look in place, and not frayed at the seams,
I’m prepared now to pay out quite dear
For a few scattered smiles and daydreams.
Pale Death, bending down, will
proffer to me
A glass of translucent sheer corrosive lye;
They’ll bear me away, just one more absentee,
Then bury my body and voice; say goodbye.
A cloud of dusty mist descends from afar . . .
So what if there’s nothing but naked red devils,
Or naught but a vat full of foul-smelling tar?
All you threats from an old-testament tome,
But leave me my memory intact and illimitate,
Just a last fleeting glimpse of memorial loam.
So that you look in place, and not frayed at the seams,
I’m prepared now to pay out quite dear
For a few scattered smiles and daydreams.
A glass of translucent sheer corrosive lye;
They’ll bear me away, just one more absentee,
Then bury my body and voice; say goodbye.
