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My Hamlet
| Teen Poetry #2 |
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My Hamlet |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA 
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And yet another translation of V. Vysotsky. Just briefly, I’ll explain myself in verse, To tell you everything-- I do not have the might. I was conceived, the proper way, in curse, -- In sweat and tenseness of the wedding night. I knew, when separating from the earth. — The higher, the more harsh we’ve got. I walked towards the throne that I deserved And acted like an heir in line of blood. I knew that everything would be just as I ruled. And I was never at a loss and never down. My mates of sword and those I knew from school Were loyal, like their fathers to the crown. I never gave my speech a bit of thought I threw my words into the wind, without essence-- Like to a leader, trust to me was brought By noble and high-ranking adolescents. The nighttime guards were fearful for their lives, From us, the time, like from a pox, grew worse. I slept on leather; ate right off the knife-- With sirrups disciplined my wild, unruly horse. I knew that I’d be told, “Long live the King!” And since my birth, I’ve worn that noble mark. Around chased harnesses, I used to fling, Abuse of words and books I’d disregard I’d smile with my lips while being pestered. My mystic stare, which used to burn in fury, I’ve learned to hide, raised by a happy jester. And now the jester’s dead: “Amen!” Poor Yurik. And yet I disapproved of any sharing— Of gains, rewards and privileges one has. Then suddenly about life I’ve started caring And rode my horse around sprouts of grass, And I forgot the hunter’s thrill and passion, Began to hate the grayhounds and the steeds. And sped my horse away from all the action, I whipped the huntsmen to support my creed. I watched our games with every single night Turn more and more into disgrace of time And by the flowing rivers, I would hide And wash myself from staining filth and slime I started to perceive, while growing duller, I even missed my household’s affair. Towards the people of this era I grew colder, I’ve hid myself in books and lost all care. My brain, for wisdom greedy like a spider Grasped everything: and immobility and motion. But what is wit when one cannot apply it? When all around there’s a restraining notion? With friends I torn the tread and I was free-- The thread of Ariadne was but a scheme. I pondered on the words “to be or not to be,” A problem with no answer as it seemed. The sea of sorrow’s splashing in diffusion We stand against it; we are sieving grain, And filtering the blurry resolution To a dilemma, which appears to be inane. I heard my father’s call when clamor stopped, Walked forth, -- while lurking doubts gloomed. The weight of heavy thoughts would pull me up And wings of flesh would drag me to my tomb. Into a weak alloy, I’ve melted with each day, And barely cool, it’s started to diffuse. Like others, I’ve spilled blood and just like they I was incapable my vengeance to refuse. The rising before death -- was my collapse! Ophilia! My dear, I won’t decay... With killing, I have made myself, perhaps, An equal to one with whom I lay. I’m Hamlet, I’ve despised mistreatment and abuse! I did not give a damn about the crown. But in their eyes, I’ve yelled and I’m acused Of sending rivals to the throne into the ground. The striking splash appears as an illusion. And death through birth emerges from a side And we’re still asking a complex solution Not finding the question to abide. |
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| © Copyright 2000 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Ender Member
since 1999-12-08
Posts 200Yuma, AZ USA |
This is one heck of a poem----try to get it published or something......it makes so much sense...keep up to good work.. -Ender *I am not one to be feared. I am one that should be loved forever. -Ender* |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA |
Thank you Ender! |
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Jer Member
since 1999-12-02
Posts 443USA |
Ahhhh... I see your still working on V.Vysotsky writings. This was another one of his great works. I'm tring to think one the one he wrote just before he died in 1980. Anyway, you should translate that one. Good job Master. "WRITING IS EASY. ALL YOU DO IS STARE AT A BLANK SHEET OF PAPER UNTIL DROPS OF BLOOD FORM ON YOUR FOREHEAD." Gene Fowler |
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Master Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867Boston, MA |
Give me a title and I'll do my best! Thanks for responding! |
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