Яна Кане - Зимородок
Название: | Зимородок | |
Автор: | Яна Кане | |
Жанр: | Поэзия | |
Изадано в серии: | неизвестно | |
Издательство: | Геликон Плюс | |
Год издания: | 2020 | |
ISBN: | 978-5-00098-264-8 | |
Отзывы: | Комментировать | |
Рейтинг: | ||
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Краткое содержание книги "Зимородок"
Яна Кане родилась и выросла в Ленинграде. Она начала писать стихи в детстве, была одним из ранних участников поэтической студии Вячеслава Лейкина при газете «Ленинские Искры». Подростком Кане эмигрировала в США. Она получила степень бакалавра по информатике в Принстонском университете, затем степень доктора философии в области статистики в Корнеллском университете. Работает статистиком. Её стихи, проза и эссе неоднократно печатались в русских, американских и западноевропейских изданиях. В книге «Зимородок / Kingfisher» на равных правах сосуществуют англоязычные, русскоязычные и двуязычные тексты. Книга эта состоялась по инициативе Дмитрия Быкова. Он так отозвался о литературной судьбе её автора: «Это двойное существование («на пороге как бы двойного бытия», как писал Тютчев, вероятно, самый близкий ей поэт) – первый такой случай в литературе. Большинство билингвов, переходя на другой язык, остаются собой. Кане по-английски – это другая личность с другой памятью. … И это первый случай, когда я не жалею о том, что талантливый поэт уехал из России. Собственно, он эмигрировал в литературу, а это лучшее, что можно сделать с собой».
К этой книге применимы такие ключевые слова (теги) как: современная поэзия,циклы стихов,философская поэзия,лирическая поэзия,двуязычная литература (билингва),поэтические переводы
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Осип Мадельштам
…The list Of soaring ships I’ve read up to the middle.Wake up! Wake up!
Osip Mandelstam (translated by Alex Sitnitsky)
There is a porthole, a port, a portal,
A momentary gap
Right here,
Where the past
Meets with the future.
A dawn breeze is rising.
You can glimpse the swaying masts,
The white sails being hoisted.
You can hear the seagulls laughing,
The lines groaning, singing,
Taut with force
Ready to propel the ship.
Let us arise and cross the threshold,
Let us run
To where the land and the water
Meet.
It is for us to name the vessel,
To unfurl the flag,
To set course
Across an uncharted sea.
3. Exploration
It's a strange world,To blossom into beingmade of echoing emptiness
pulling itself together…
Anastasya Shepherd
A new world needs travelers.
Now we are here,
Calling out to each other:
“Look!”, “Did you hear that?”,
“This feels just like…”
“Watch out!”, “Where does this…”,
“Well done!” “What if?”
Now we are here,
Exploring with all our senses:
Humor, awe, dread, irony, appreciation, wonder.
When we gaze up
Celestial bodies
Flare into existence,
Dance with each other.
Flocks wing across the sky,
Swarms billow over bogs,
The air comes alive
With singing, buzzing, courting, hunting, pollinating.
Each step we take tells us
What is underneath our feet:
Grass, ice, rock,
A swaying bridge above the mist
That rises from the chasm
To cling to our ankles.
I do not know how far
We are destined to travel.
But I trust this world
To keep unfolding space and time
For our journey of exploration,
For as long as we are here.
4. Siren song
…you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them.Sirens have two kinds of songs
Homer (translated by Samuel Butler)
To lure those who come near them,
To bind the minds of travelers
With snares of longing.
Songs of adventure and of glory,
Of giving names
To new lands, to new creatures.
These songs promise freedom
From the tedium
Of familiar words,
From the confines
Of the cradle, the field, the hearth,
From the gray stones of the graveyard,
From the moss that steals over the names
Of a long line of ancestors.
Songs of warmth,
Of embracing arms and sheltering walls.
These songs promise to turn
The terrors, the regrets
Of past voyages,
The uncharted vastness of the future
Into words, into lusty tales
That can be traded
For a hearty tankard of ale
A seat close to the fireplace,
The eager gaze of a rapt listener.
5. Nightmares and their riders
I have nightmares now.A nightmare is a kind of horse:I dream that something happened to you…
Anastasya Shepherd
A powerful creature, wild and willful.
Approach her with respect, with skill,
For she may bite, kick or rear;
She may leave the one who dares to touch her
Broken, paralyzed, dead.
Yet she is capable of learning to accept a rider.
Balancing on the back of a nightmare,
Riding a dark dream,
We can leap much farther than is humanly possible.
A nightmare can carry us across an abyss.
6. Trains and their dreamers
The train stitches together images,The distant clatterlike a demented alliterating seamstress…
Anastasya Shepherd
Of the predawn train
Quilts the quiet air,
Pulls the thread of the whistle
Long, long, l-o-ong
Through the mist.
Between sleeping and waking
I dream.
I piece together
Stations, timetables, tickets
To choose my own destination,
To fashion a different self.
7. Synaesthesia
There are times in life when synaesthesia becomes inescapable,Escape is possible.when water smells like lead and feels blue…
Anastasya Shepherd
Search the floor of your perception,
Feel for the hidden trapdoor,
The moment of synaesthesia.
Pry it open,
Heave it up on its rusty hinges.
Plunge into the blue.
Roll up, solid, dull,
Like a ball of lead.
Sink through the water,
Pass through the gradations
Of the shimmering light
Deepening into darkness,
As the shadows thicken.
Let go of all
That has been visible.
Feel the weight of the ocean
Press you to the bottom.
Smell your own fear.
Taste the bile of loss.
Rise, rise like an air bubble.
Push through the cool resistance
Until you are released,
Until you burst into nothingness.
Let the freedom of empty space
Flood your senses with joy.
8. The Age of Discovery
You make choices.Having circumnavigated our world,Those choices make you.
Then you make choices.
Always a spiral – upwards or downwards – it's your choice.
Anastasya Shepherd
I realize that it is not a sphere,
But a spiral.
I am back where I started from.
The path ahead is as unknown
As it was before the journey.
But you, my friend,
Who steadfastly stayed here
At the origin,
How did you find out?
Or was it clear?
Was it clear all along?
Theological Questions
Circling the pulsing center of their universeThe fish are passing through sunlight and shadow.
Their existence is framed, circumscribed, and protected
By the carved marble rim of the fountain’s basin.
Do they fear or worship the hand that feeds them,
Removes their dead, repairs the stonework;
The hand that brought their ancestors here
From another world in a wooden bucket?
Can they see that the hand moves more slowly now,
That the bony fingers have grown stiff with age?
Portrait of a room
Now, as a human life in this roomIs ebbing,
The attitudes of the objects
Become apparent.
The rocking chair
Stretches forth its arm-rests,
Ready to embrace, to lull,
To enthrall with the stories
Of a long life-time.
The mirror turns a blind eye
To all that is happening here,
Gazing intently
Into its own distant dreams.
The hospital bed knows
That it is seen as ugly,
Unwanted in every room that it enters.
Yet it goes about its work
Reliably and with care,
Keeping the patient
As comfortable as it is able.
It does its best to be unobtrusive.
The edge of the crystal vase
Glitters hard in the corner.
Being confined to a sick-room,
Enduring the dusty monotony
Of pathetic fake flowers —
This is not what it’s made for!
The curtains hold back the darkness,
Soften the mid-day light.
Catching the slightest motion of the air,
They stir like wings,
Like the white sails of a ship,
Sensing the wind, the space
Of a great invisible world.
Orbit
The Earth falls towards the Sun.There are --">
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