the perfections are sharpened

04:55 | 24-06-2011 | Literature | 3 Comments

замечательная Анастасия nastiknastik 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 uniformly

by a spirit of uselessness
which delights them—

all the exciting detail
of the chase

and the escape, the error
the flash of genius—

all to no end save beauty
the eternal—

So in detail they, the crowd,
are beautiful

for this
to be warned against

saluted and defied—
It is alive, venomous

it 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
Revolution

It is beauty itself
that lives

day by day in them
idly—

This is
the power of their faces

It is summer, it is the solstice
the crowd is

cheering, the crowd is laughing
in detail

permanently, 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 it

in the back yard.
Those fleas that escaped
earth and fire
died by the cold.

доброе утро.

  

3 Responses to “the perfections are sharpened”

  1. s says:

    здесь о нем сколько-то: http://books.google.com/books?id=ICOrSh4mqx8C

  2. […] и не менее изумительный перевод (и раньше, впрочем, не сомневался) — с замечательными находками (“sláinte” – […]

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