LEV NEZNANSKY
DO NOT WEEP, BELOVED
POEMS
TRANSLATED BY VANESSA McMAHON
CONTENTS
Foreword
3
Spring 4
Stretch out your hand 5
In
Once again its spring 8
Nostalgia 9
Childhood 12
A Dream 13
Blue 14
Jealousy 15
Grains of sand along the roadway 16
Storm 18
Legend 19
Parable 20
The Wind 22
The Seasons 23
Amadeus 24
Eternity 25
Resurrection 26
Instinct 27
Boomerang 28
Bodhisattva 29
The Cry 30
Marble 31
Was it a dream 32
Beneath blue skies 33
Sunset 34
Do not weep, beloved 35
Shadows 36
I cannot grasp it 38
The Return 39
Surrender 40
Breathless 42
A Prayer 43
Drinking Song 44
Farewell 46
FOREWORD
On first meeting Lev Neznansky in 1982, I was immediately struck by the truly enormous versatility and flexibility of his interests and intellect. The poems in this collection reveal yet another facet of his talents, and reflect the astonishing amalgam of religious, political and artistic experiences that he and his family have undergone. They are in the finest traditions of Russian poetry, tempered by the authors inherent aptitude for adapting the conventions of the past to the requirements of the present. They are heartily recommended to anybody who loves the Russian language.
In its own way, this
little volume is historic, for surely it must be the first example of the
simultaneous translation of poems from Russian to English by a person from
this country. Vanessa McMahon has
collaborated with Lev Neznansky to achieve the almost impossible task of
adhering faithfully to the content of the original, while at the same time
producing versions which are worthy to stand in their own right.
This, of itself,
adds another dimension for those fortunate enough to read the original Russian,
for they will rarely find a better example of artistic translations on which to
model their own efforts.
Martin
D. Bates,
Russian
Lecturer,
Lev Neznansky: sculptor,
essayist, poet.
He was one
of the leading art critics in
the
emigrating to
his family in 1975. Since
1982 he has been living and
working in Wexford.
Vanessa McMahon: professional
violinist, linguist. She lives in
SPRING
A crown of cherry-blossom
Fell
from the sky
And hung before the window
Of
the second floor.
Black rocks,
White
flowers,
Dawn over
Stillness.
April
Twenty-
sixth.
STRETCH OUT YOUR HAND
Stretch out your hand,
Feel the touch of mist and rain.
Open soft the curtain
To the gentle smile
Of sunshine and of warmth.
Know, I pray,
The sadness of our parting.
Through the movement of the clouds
Beyond earths edge
Light up the sky with rays
Of evening sunset,
Then silently enfold yourself
In darkness and in sleep.
IN
Blindly then I made my way to
And cooled my brow on stone,
Ran my hand across it
Felt the roughness of its surface.
Again the pain.
Her features there.
I touched them
But theyd gone.
I turned the stone around
In vain.
I seized upon an axe
But the stone would not submit.
A line appeared,
A voice was heard
Then silence.
I left the stone abandoned
in
the heat
And went and sat neath eucalyptus
shade
With vacant stare.
Time was all forgot, an eternity
it
seemed,
It could be that I prayed.
I dont recall.
Then suddenly the stone began
to
crack,
I took the axe and helped her
to
appear.
The oval of her face!
The rest came by itself,
I only prayed
-Dont
leave me, Lord!
And there she was, yet different.
She wanted to be silent like
the Sphinx.
I circled all around and round,
Trying to catch her gaze.
It slipped away.
She looked on past, beyond.
I took the axe about those eyes!
They closed.
Empty sockets, still remaining.
A tear lies trembling there.
My tear.
ONCE AGAIN ITS SPRING
The moment you are
Lost from view
The moment you are
Out of hearing
The worlds a void,
the sky goes dark.
But for an instant
when youre near,
Its spring!
The mystery
And wonder of rebirth.
NOSTALGIA
(Impressions of Tarkovskys film)
I
The stubborn sower
Grim
swing of shoulders,
Has scattered
For
partings without end.
As our native ground-wind in a
draught
Blows
in from slightly-open doors,
So ice creeps in beneath the heart.
So
be it.
I consent to light the candle,
And
carry it far off,
Shielded by my palm.
Mother of God,
Warm
me with a breath,
Be it ever so little,
Theres no need of wind,
Only
let there be stillness.
II
Were it not for the trumpets
voice
Yearning
in the night
I would sleep like all those
Who
have died in foreign
lands,
And dream a dream, always
the same,
I
am walking ever on
And now to meet me, open-armed,
Comes
in white,
A smile of welcome on her face. . .
At
this point I awaken.
The radiance of the Risen Christ
Is
drowning in the dungeons
gloom.
The
trumpets voice,
Searching, searching in the night
Laments
and moans
With death-like tone. . .
Awaken
all those who have
died,
III
The fire alarm
The snore of bells
Scarlet stallion
Scarlet banner
Of a world-engulfing blaze.
And suddenly
A peal of bells
Is
ringing over
I will return
Beneath
the golden domes,
And saving canopy
Of
Faith and Hope and Love,
Dazed, Ill fall down on my knees
Upon
the threshold
Humbly then a prayer
Ill
whisper
Lord, forgive me,
I am the prodigal son.
The moment when those bells
ring
out
Ill cross the world on foot
to
be there.
CHILDHOOD
The flowering of gardens
The movement of treetops
green and pink and white
Brings memories of childhood back.
When boles of organ pipes
Went shooting towards the sky,
And I was soaring there
in
lofty heights,
A boy
conductor
of the orchestra
Lord of rhythm
and
of musics heavenly spheres.
A DREAM
Whether my soul took leave of me
Or I took leave of it,
A cannot tell, I fell asleep,
And dreamed that I was dying,
So sadly,
Irreversibly.
With breath already fading,
Faint,
I looked around the orchestra
Where every blessed day
I played upon the violin.
The bow falls silent now,
The strings make no sound
Why sing a moment here
And then for all eternity be
deaf?
A sudden shadow fell, a gentle
tap
was heard
I flinched
The conductors arm was raised,
The stick was grasped
I raised the violin and my soul
did
pass away
Was borne aloft on sound
And I became eternal.
BLUE
Gaze all-seeing
As in centuries long past
Slipping towards tomorrow,
To eternity.
Blue
Colour of anxiety
Streaming without tears
To separation.
Gaze
Entreaty
Groans
O heaven
Raise me up
Wrap and comfort me
Work for me
This miracle
Dissolve
Dispel
This blueness of anxiety.
JEALOUSY
When it happened
That
the scalded heart
Burned within the breast,
A
hammer then I took
And tore
The
jealous bonds apart
Striking blow on blow.
I
sculpted out
A gravestone to our love.
And
there she entered in,
She sat upon the slab,
Half
sprawled across it,
She smoked and with
a shrug of shoulders
Tossed
at me
A casual so long
And
left.
Where leads her path?
In
whose embraces
Does she lie?
The
stone was silent then
Until, being cast in bronze,
It
cried aloud.
GRAINS OF SAND ALONG THE ROADWAY
The moment of farewell was only
marked
By a silent drawn-out stare,
An independent movement
of the shoulders,
By a courteous remoteness, and again
That offhand shrug,
By a beating all about the bush
With purposely indifferent words
Not to find the end
Of the bond which had united us.
We do not seek it.
The wind swirls grains of sand
along
the roadway.
High above the
The birds are killing hope.
In the pre-dawn hour
At the centre of the earth,
Golden wings of sorrow
Set the cupolas and crosses
Of
And the birds return
To the starkly-kneaded mountains,
All crushed by the hand of God.
STORM
A bush
Shudders
Whistles
Groans.
Rose-coloured light
Of
cherry blossom.
A storm with jarring laughter
Lashes.
Dawn will come
In
the fading years.
LEGEND
On the mountain stood a prophet,
Sinful and devout.
Moses.
Stern he was,
Yet humble before God,
Though used to wielding power.
He wished to live, not to perish,
Not grow cold.
Moses prayed, implored.
God appeared, and said:
You will not die, go down,
Stand henceforth among the crowd,
You will have power no more.
Moses fell, and offered thanks.
Immortal!
He went and stood among the others.
A holy place can not remain
deserted.
Another came, began to speak.
His blood did boil.
Wretched boy, not that, absurd!
Ran up, hand raised impatiently
And died.
O Lord have mercy and forgive!
PARABLE
There
was no admittance to the
Recovery ward. Every night he paced
beneath the windows, knowing that if
death should come the light would go
out.
One
night his courage failed him.
Numb with fear, he dared not raise
his
head to look at the window.
And
then he heard a voice asking
what it was that so tormented
him. He
answered that his cross was too
heavy,
an unendurable burden.
Come, he heard it say.
He
found himself in a place where
crosses lay all about, faintly lit
by
moonlight. They were many, and all
different.
Put
down your cross he heard
and take whichever one fits.
He
wandered all around trying them
out.
They all felt clumsy: one chafed
his back, another his neck, yet
another
stuck out like a stake. He was becoming
weary when he saw a cross which looked
as if it might do well-formed, not
large.
He shouldered it the very one.
And said:
This is the one. Thank you.
So be it. Take back your cross.
My cross?
Yours. You have taken up that which
you cast away.
When he returned beneath the window
The light had gone out.
THE WIND
Whistling wind, howling wind,
Moaning long with drawn-out sound,
The land lies heavy in the gloom,
The terrors of the night abound.
It would be good to bow our heads,
Falling to our knees to pray,
It would be good to stand up
straight,
And drive these fearful dreams away.
Never, never, gusting stronger,
Ever fiercer blows the storm,
Devil, tame yourself, be still,
The night is long, all strength is
gone.
Whistling wind, howling wind,
Moaning long with drawn-out sound,
The land lies heavy in the gloom,
The terrors of the night abound.
THE SEASONS
Autumns not autumn,
You vex yourself for nothing,
The cycle of foul weather
May pass over or may not.
Despondency in twilight years,
Vanity of vanities and all is
vanity.
Summers not summer.
It blazes and is gone,
No sunshine, no light,
No warmth for the spirit.
Always alone on the finishing
straight,
He fell on the tape and howled.
It is, it isnt,
Its spring again,
Water, water
Of vernal tears.
Dreams are more substantial
than
the past,
Than days gone by, than years
long
fled.
But winter now, is winter,
Smothered in a shroud,
Blankets wont be needed,
Hell not be seen again.
Theres rest all the same
salvation
too,
Though it gets ever harder
to
pass away.
AMADEUS
O Mozart, you are answerable for
everything!
For the brassy clashes of
the
cymbals
Which assail your ears in Chopins
Funeral
March,
And for the death of Desdemona,
For your laughter,
That sobs above the graveyards
of
the world,
And for the brass of horns,
which
rust,
And for the strings that
do
not sound.
Are you not the God of harmony,
Master of the music of the spheres?
Then pity Chopin, so he
Should not weep.
ETERNITY
When I am dead
Ill wing my way to you
And I will find
Among the stars of heaven
Your star
And float towards it
Evermore.
RESURRECTION
Imagine now an aged house
Pillars on the front,
Stained glass in the windows,
And we,
Pressed against the panes
Within,
Spread-eagled and immobile.
And
in the mirrored depths
A
smile from ear to ear
Is
grinning soundlessly.
We are alone.
People
pass by in the dark
Someone
waves a hand
Someone
even turns to look.
Do they see this smiling face?
Morning.
It
comes towards us now,
That
grin from ear to ear,
Like
a ghost incarnate
It
strips off from the glass
The
membrane of our skin
Gives
a puff
And we become
As toy balloons.
INSTINCT
Primordial torso,
Swell of breast.
Instinct repeating itself
Simply, crudely.
Returning to the source.
BOOMERANG
The flourish of the
Boomerang
Forms an eyebrow arch
In marble
In the search
For itself.
BODHISATTVA
Fallen by the wayside
Leading to the summit towards
Buddha,
The dream is shattered in
a
thousand pieces
This marble is the witness
of
ascent and fall
Haughty visage, secret gaze.
Impenetrable mystery
of
Bodhisattva.
THE CRY
In the depths of the bronze
A cry is frozen.
Symbol of terror, despairing.
Craving our compassion.
MARBLE
Marble is alive and dead,
It has a dual nature:
In art bestowing life,
In graves the chill of death.
WAS IT A DREAM
Was it a dream, or half awake,
A movement of the lips,
A glance of farewell
From afar?
Is it the light
Fading,
Or the past
Returning,
Or my dream is
Not a dream,
But eyes, once dead,
Come back to life
In the shadow of a smile
BENEATH BLUE SKIES
On wings of happiness
and
love
Beneath blue skies
we
glided.
Below, the waves were rolling,
surf
was breaking.
And in the chilly
sky
The wind squeezed out
a
tear,
Softly then I wept.
So
good it is!
Rain began to fall,
But
she with flashing eyes
Burst out in laughter.
And
in the rainbows arc
Were heaven and earth enclosed.
SUNSET
With sunset skies
Ablaze
She came
With eyes that said
I love you
I believe her
And am glad.
Nearby wife
And children
Sleeping
Her eyes say
Forget
Lose yourself
Dont be afraid
Am your friend
A love you
What a moment
Youth
Fate
Blood racing
Soul singing
How beautiful
She is
I thought on it
The sun set
Her eyes dimmed.
Wife
And children
Slept.
DO NOT WEEP, BELOVED
Do not weep, beloved
Do not weep my dearest heart
Only pull aside
The veil that screens the sky
And the sun will shine on us.
Look now
The vault of heaven sparkles
With hopes reflected light
Instant and eternity
Are
filled
With tender peace.
Let
sadness
Pass away and lift this grief
And
join the realm of memories
Without the torment of
Forebodings
on the night,
Of ghosts and monsters
Sticking
fast like fear.
Embrace me
And Ill hold you close.
SHADOWS
I
Shadows, shadows, shadows,
That were and are, and wont be
more,
Only sound can live
Outside of time, outside of shadow.
Sound alone endures,
Most ancient of the muses.
Consonance swift-winged
Incorporeal and fleeting.
Light endeavours, and is jealous
Slave of seconds, time obeying
Declines, - goes
out, - nothing.
What is colour, then?
The visible accord of light?
A ray transformed in matter?
Who knows where lies the answer
The answer is in God
But theres no God.
II
.No God?
Yes, God is,
And answer too.
A ray past strings
Does softly brush,
The heavens are awakened
In the gaze of the Gioconda.
I CANNOT GRASP IT
I cannot grasp it with the mind,
This earthly lot, a thousand paths
Of anguish, flights, defeats and
joys,
Of partings and re-unions.
Are they real, your hands, your
lips?
They are no more, and yet I sense
them,
And the trembling of your eyelash
At the moment of your last farewell.
Forgive me, I have lingered long
To fashion out a gravestone,
Inscribing on it words of love
And a date without beginning,
without
end.
THE RETURN
Ever the same return
To
that same place
To homeland
To
abandoned friends
In dreams or waking
I
am ever running back
To smiles in the past
To
the swoon of
Embraces
Some day in truth
I shall return
In verses or in bronze
Or
stone
SURRENDER!
Surrender, he says, surrender
Submit, he says, submit
Restrain yourself
Curb your obstinacy.
I alone
I alone
Am yours.
Go away, she says, go away
Get lost, she says, get lost.
Im not yours
Im no-ones
Get out.
I cant, he says, I cant
Dont be cruel
Let me stay
Cherish me
Kiss
Put your arms
Around me.
Go away, she says, go away,
I hate you
Leave off
Ill kill you
Another I want
Not you.
You swore, he says, you swore,
You took me
In your arms
You lived
For me
Your words.
For you, she says, I lived,
To you, she says, I swore,
Knelt down
On my knees.
Its finished
Burnt out
Whats past is past.
BREATHLESS
If there should be gloom
Sepulchral silence,
Empty howling
Of the doublebass,
And hearing penetrates
The dumbness,
Eyelash falls from eye
With the thunder of a landslide?
I tumble backwards, stupefied.
And then what?
Downwards, ever down I fall,
And grasp the edge,
Suspended.
Terror-stricken, breathless,
All past life
Flashes by before my eyes
Towards the source,
In images disjointed;
Fragments of disgrace,
Of infamy, of weakness,
For fulfilment of the sentence.
A PRAYER
I pray
Implore
On the brink
Of the abyss
O Lord
Have mercy
On my soul,
Forgive.
But now
Immortals gather round
A meeting with the past?
A stop upon the way?
Forwards?
Or back?
Dark
Night
Sleep.
DRINKING SONG
In the half-dark pub a guitar is
strumming,
A guitar is strumming with an
Irish
voice.
I sit there with my sweetheart,
the
tenderest of sweethearts
The sweetest of expressions
on
her gentle face.
Now she tells the story, she tells
everybody
How she saved me from the drink,
from the demon drink,
In this very pub, where well have
a wedding party
With a bit of luck, with a lot of
luck.
We dont need a roof, we dont need
a
house,
Theres everything here, for body
and
soul.
The counter will be fine as
a
marriage bed
Therell be food enough and
drinking too.
Dont grieve, brothers, dont leave,
brothers,
Hold out your pints, together raise
them up,
Shoulder to shoulder with our arms
around each other
Well drink like we used to
in this same pub.
In the half-dark pub a guitar
is
strumming
A guitar is strumming with an Irish
voice.
I sit there with my sweetheart,
the tenderest of sweethearts
The sweetest of expressions on her
gentle face.
FAREWELL
Farewell,
Dance
of stars,
Domes of churches,
Smells
of night,
Blue of lilac-coloured headscarf,
Glimmer
of the moon.
Remember me with kindness.
I
am leaving
To return again,
In
spite of everything,
To meet the New Word.
