Translator's prose crib & transliteration
The translator has belatedly provided their own prose crib and transliteration. So, here you have it---
Quote:
Crib
From faraway returning to where I had long not been,
Instead of life and happiness I will find empty walls.
While in the flowerbed by the house, behind wrought iron openwork
I will see a flat stone, will read on the stone a name -
And, leaning against the lattice, I will pronounce in turmoil:
“But how is it so, Maria? I expected otherwise.
I thought, you will once again save me, as before.
I was certain. I supposed you could do everything...”
And will move slightly the stone, and will nod the stalks.
And I will hear a voice, which will clearly speak:
“Change your path, traveller. You were wrong, as you can see.
I'm not a goddess at all, and not a sorceress, even,
Though I can do such, that nobody else can:
Can not know solace, can not be loved,
Can not wait, not remember, can not sing, not cry,
Can not live in the world, but cannot not die...”
And again everything will quiet down. But soon in quiet steps
From the house will come out somebody – must be, the local custodian -
And will ask, what he owes. And I will lie hurriedly,
That I have mixed up the address. And turn towards the gates.
And will laugh the stone, and will move away the stalks.
And with quiet step the custodian will walk back to the house,
To inscribe the mark in his ledger.
Thus turns to handwriting that, which once was me.
Transliteration
Izdaleka vernuvshis tuda, gde ne byl dolgo,
vzamen zhilja y schastya naidu pustye steny.
A v tsvetnike u doma za chugunom azhurnym
Uvizhu ploskii kamen, prochtu na kamne imja -
y, prislonyas k reshetke, proiznesu v smyatenye:
“Nu kak zhe tak, Maria? Ya ozhidal inogo.
Ya dumal, ty eshe raz spasesh menya, kak prezhde.
Ya byl uveren. Ya polagal, ty mozhesh vse...”
Y shevelnetsya kamen, y pokachnutsya stebli.
Y ya uslyshu golos, kotoryj vnyatno molvit:
“Menyai dorogu, putnik. Ty byl neprav, kak vidish'.
Ya ne boginya vovse, y ne koldunya dazhe,
Hot y mogu takoe, chego nikto ne mozhet:
mogu ne znat otrady, mogu ne byt ljubimoj,
Mogu ne zhdat, ne pomnit, mogu ne pet, ne plakat,
mogu ne zhit na svete, no ne mogu ne umirat...”
Y snova vse umolknet. No vskore tihim shagom
iz doma vyjdet nekto – dolzhno byt, mestnyj storozh -
Y sprosit, chem obyazan. Y ya solgu pospeshno,
chto pereputal adres. Y povernus k vorotam.
Y zasmeetsya kamen, y otshatnutsya stebli.
Y tihim shagom storozh poidet obratno k domu,
chtob nachertat otmetku v svoej uchetnoj knige.
Tak prevratitsya v pocherk to, chto kogda – to bylo mnoi.
|
|