Translations from Katya Kapovich



From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 18 Nov 1996 10:42:33 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

Katia Kapovich is an outstanding Russian poet who now lives in the United States. She is 36 years old. Rather little of her work has so far been translated into English. I would like to introduce Katia Kapovich's poetry to the Usenet readership by posting here some of my own translations of her work.

I welcome any comments.

Philip Nikolayev


From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 18 Nov 1996 10:49:03 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

Katia Kapovich

DEJA VU, DEJA ENTENDU

for my great-aunt

At the season's stock exchange
fallen leaves are cheaply sold
and the heart's October rage
goes for quickly rusting gold.

Swifts, like scissors flitting by,
cut the threads of rain apart,
so your memory can tie
a transparent silky knot.

Soon you'll travel over miles
of arcane embroidery
shed by poplars, oaks and elms
all along your route to me.

Then it will be time again
for fresh needlework, as frost
stitches back to windowpanes
a whole florid paradise lost.

But for now you focus on
rain on brilliant leaves, high autumn's
sodden spell, which before long
will be gone behind the curtains.

Ages must float by on end
down parabolas, before
absent-mindedly a hand
drops a needle to the floor.

Brisk and sharp, a golden beam
will protrude through sackcloth skies.
Everything your eyes have seen
will flood back into your eyes.

translated by Philip Nikolayev



From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 18 Nov 1996 10:49:32 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

Katia Kapovich

A TRAVELER

The earth's facial plaster cast
lies transmuted into snow.
Under foreign milky skies
on a snowdrift melts a crow.
Amid clouds the moon, well-buttered,
hangs and shines. The eye's elisions
make it introvert, yet midnight
will compare all notes and visions.
Walking to the railway station
you'll encounter no resistance.
Giving in to your temptation
time will drink the health of distance.
But your shadow will flee back
from a parting of the ways.
As obscure as your track
grows the heartbeat of your days.
Where no bread can feed the circus
and no cinders back the smoke,
you take up quarters where you please
and sleep invisibly, if you like.

translated by Philip Nikolayev



From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 19 Nov 1996 10:26:28 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

Katia Kapovich

RENDEZVOUS ON SAND

Stiff wind rips remnant chimney-smoke to shreds,
invades the dark porch, fumbles with the door-bolt,
lets itself in, ruffles up your empty bed,
announcing how you are loved far beyond
these walls, in a new world where now your soul
concludes the concept "wind" cannot be found
in the vernacular, nor in the sagging sails
still at full mast on vessels run aground.

Your breathing quarters no longer limited
by sand, but by the edges of the sky,
this fresh ebb steals the sea from under your toes
and pauses as millennia go by,
while memory, as swift in backward race,
trips on the very spot where once the sand
bore the clear imprint of your shoulder-blade
and yet recovers no such sunlit place.

translated by Philip Nikolayev



From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 19 Nov 1996 10:50:12 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

Katia Kapovich

A TEST OF ACOUSTICS

I'll speak to you alone, with no one there to hear this,
while mid-October's leaves cling abject to the ground
in colored heaps, until, my voice grown hoarse like yours,
we part in fuming flames beyond the well-known bound.

I'm old enough to see that autumn rules unkempt
over a grove that won't miss us in years to come,
and space has lied to us that time's a double suite;
pardon the joke; I know how space and you keep mum.

You venture on your own along the curbs won back
by trembling streetlamp's glare from the benighted street,
and fear recedes like air before you as you walk
because you walk alone and follow your own lead.

Camping on doorsteps and pursuing all other channels,
the manifold of rain will make haste in your tracks,
but lose your scent again amid pedestrian runnels
full of long-winded grief sans punctuation marks.

And I, prone to peruse this life as traveler's fiction,
rise to the ultimate correctness of a voice,
make no attempt to match the force of my convictions,
but hum them to myself through usual railroad noise.

translated by Philip Nikolayev

From: nikolay@scws40.harvard.edu (Philip Nikolayev)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.books,rec.arts.poems,soc.culture.soviet,soc.culture.russian
Subject: Re: KATIA KAPOVICH in translation
Date: 20 Nov 1996 23:41:37 -0500
Organization: The Kremlin Wall of Harvard

At Fido's suggestion, I'm posting a translation alongside its Russian
original.

	Katia Kapovich

		DEJA VU, DEJA ENTENDU
		for my great-aunt

Za noch kurs listvy upal,	At the season's stock exchange
krony brosheny na veter.	fallen leaves are cheaply sold
Liudi gibnut za metall		and the heart's October rage
chto rzhaveet na rassvete.	goes for quickly rusting gold.

Slovno nozhnitsy - strizhi	Swifts, like scissors flitting by,
dozhdevye rezhut niti.		cut the threads of rain apart,
Ty zh na pamiat' zaviazhi	so your memory can tie
uzelok v obgon sobytii.		a transparent silky knot.

Skoro, skoro nichego		Soon you'll travel over miles
ne ostanetsia mezh nami,	of arcane embroidery
lish tsvetastoe shytio  	shed by poplars, oaks and elms
sbroshennoe topoliami.		all along your route to me.

V poru v pal'tsy brat' iglu	Then it will be time again
i, lish tolko inei tresnet,	for fresh needlework, as frost
pritorachivat' k steklu		stitches back to windowpanes
raspustivshuiusia pestriad'.	a whole florid paradise lost.

Oseniai, okno na iug,		But for now you focus on
bleskom oseni, kotoroi,		rain on brilliant leaves, high autumn's
spokvativshis' zavtra vdrug,	sodden spell, which before long
ne naidem za pylnoi shtoroi.	will be gone behind the curtains.

Proletet' dolzhnu veka		Ages must float by on end
po parabolam porabol,		down parabolas, before
poka chia-nibud' ruka		absent-mindedly a hand
vyronit igolku na pol.		drops a needle to the floor.

V meshkovine tuch blesnet	Brisk and sharp, a golden beam
blednyi luch, ostree shila.	will protrude through sackcloth skies.
Skvoz' dyriavyi nebosvod	Everything your eyes have seen
ty uvidish vsio, chto bylo.	will flood back into your eyes.

				translated by Philip Nikolayev

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