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Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867
Boston, MA

0 posted 2000-04-12 09:03 PM

*This is another one of my translations, this is a poem by Aleksander Pushkin.

Oh what a night! The frost is creaking,
Across the sky no clouds are creeping;
The bluish dome, -- a knitted shade,
Is dazzled with the frequent stars.
All homes are dark. And every gate
Is safely locked with bolts and bars.
In people calmness is conveyed.
The noisy market now is calm,
The guarding dog just barks alone,
And with the loud chains it rumbles.

While all of Moscow sleeps in slumber,
The restlessness of fear forgetting.
The square, in murkiness of night,
Stands filled with yesterday’s beheading.
The torture’s imprints still abide:
Where with a sword a man was struck,
Where there are pitchforks, where there are
The cooled off cauldrons filled with tar;
Where there’s a tumbled over block;
The metal teeth are sticking out,
And bones with ashes are consumed,
Upon the stakes, above the ground,
Dead bodies darken from the fume...
Not long ago, the blood was sliding
Pigmenting snow along the way
And languid moans were rising, rising,
But death embraced them, tranquilizing,
And overtook her easy prey.
Who’s there? Whose horse is it that’s speeding
Across the risky square in flight?
Whose blaring whistle, loud speaking
Is heard in twilight of the night?
Who’s he? –A slayer full of greed.
He gallops, hurries to his date,
By his desire made irate
He pleads: “My valiant, intrepid steed,
Fly like an arrow at full speed!
Oh faster, faster!...” The ardent horse  
Just swung its mane, abruptly paused
And stopped. Between the posts
Upon the long and wooden crossbeam,
A corpse was swaying. And the horseman
Was ready to advance and cross,
But for some reason under lashes
The steed just sniffs and snorts and rushes
Back. “Where to?! Ahead, ahead!
What is with you! What is to dread?
Just yesterday, right here we’d ride,
Wasn’t it us who stomped with pride,
Inflamed with vengance from afar,
The evil traitors of the czar?
It was their blood that we would use
To wash and clean your steely hoofs!
Have you forgotted all in spite?
My daring steed, this is your course
Now gallop, fly...” The tired horse
Under the corpse would slowly ride.

[This message has been edited by Master (edited 04-13-2000).]

© Copyright 2000 Andrey Kneller - All Rights Reserved
Member Elite
since 2000-01-25
Posts 2556
Floating gently on a cloud....
1 posted 2000-04-13 09:07 AM

WOW!!! These translations of yours are amazing...we are priviledged to have you to share them with us...thanks!!

Love and hugs,

 "Poetry is the true expression of my soul, it is my ultimate means of communication. It is my rainbow of delight."

Danny Holloway
Member Elite
since 2000-01-15
Posts 2034
Tulsa, OK
2 posted 2000-04-13 01:20 PM

Excellent work on your part.  Terribly cruel time for many people.
Well done!

Senior Member
since 2000-03-09
Posts 522
Missouri, USA
3 posted 2000-04-13 04:42 PM

Man, I just love reading these translations of yours. This one I like especialy, and is going into my poetry book. Very nice, keep them coming and I'll keep reading them  

 "Sa souvraya niende missian ye." \
I am lost in my own mind.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great,
And would suffice.
-Robert Frost

Yu Lan
Senior Member
since 2000-04-13
Posts 1462
New Zealand
4 posted 2000-04-14 01:28 AM

awesome! ^_^ can i just ask.. (I am new here) what do u mean by 'translation'??

yeah, I like Pushkin's work...  


Senior Member
since 1999-08-18
Posts 1867
Boston, MA
5 posted 2000-04-14 06:42 AM

Thank you everyone! Glad that you could enjoy it!

Yu Lan, a translation is when you take a poem from one language and translate it to another. This poem was originally written in Russian, I've translated it into English.

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