the perfections are sharpened
04:55 | 24-06-2011 | Literature | 3 Comments
замечательная Анастасия nastik Грызунова переводит стихи Уильяма Карлоса Уильямса (плюс, вот ссылки и на другие его переводы: 1 + 2 + 3 + 4).
Уильямс, если что, потрясающий без меры, и те кусочки “Патерсона”, что довелось мне когда-то случайно встретить, очаровали меня раз и навсегда:
—Say it, no ideas but in things—
nothing but the blank faces of the houses
and cylindrical trees
bent, forked by preconception and accident—
split, furrowed, creased, mottled, stained—
secret—into the body of the light!
огромный коллаж, поэтический шаг, соединяющий мир каждодневности и поэтики — вот, что писал об этом он сам:
Like the newspaper that takes things as it finds them, — mutilated and deform, but drops what it finds as it was, unchanged in all its deformity and mutilation — the poet, challenging the event recreates it as of when it sprang from among men and women, and makes a new world of it.
и дальше, в полном соответствии, он брал картины настоящего и расписывал их в поэзию событий:
The truth is that news offers the precise incentive to epic poetry, the poetry of events; and now is precisely the time for it since never by any chance is the character of a single fact ever truthfully represented today. If ever we are to have any understanding of what is going on about us we shall need some other means for discobvering it. The epic poem would be our newspaper.
вот так (или здесь, благодаря Насте, по-русски):
The crowd at the ball game
is moved uniformlyby a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—all the exciting detail
of the chaseand the escape, the error
the flash of genius—all to no end save beauty
the eternal—So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautifulfor this
to be warned againstsaluted and defied—
It is alive, venomousit smiles grimly
its words cut—The flashy female with her
mother, gets it—The Jew gets it straight— it
is deadly, terrifying—It is the Inquisition, the
RevolutionIt is beauty itself
that livesday by day in them
idly—This is
the power of their facesIt is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd ischeering, the crowd is laughing
in detailpermanently, seriously
without thought
или так, полный журналистской лаконичности, точно заметка где-нибудь на 9 странице:
It was an icy day.
We buried the cat,
then took her box
and set fire to itin the back yard.
Those fleas that escaped
earth and fire
died by the cold.
доброе утро.
здесь о нем сколько-то: http://books.google.com/books?id=ICOrSh4mqx8C
[…] и не менее изумительный перевод (и раньше, впрочем, не сомневался) — с замечательными находками (“sláinte” – […]
http://www.openculture.com/2012/09/the_business_card_of_william_carlos_williams_doctor_by_day_poet_by_night.html