[Jennifer Reeser]

Returning from a journey, to what I'd long abandoned...
Mikhail Scherbakov

Returning from a journey to what I'd long abandoned,
Instead of joy and comfort, I'll find an empty dwelling.
And in the flowerbed, by the house's twisted railing,
I'll see a flattened gravestone, and read a name upon it -
And, leaning on the railing, I will cry out in turmoil:
“How can this be, Maria? I didn't see this coming.
I thought that you would save me, the way you always had done.
I trusted in your powers. I really thought you knew it all...”

My words will move the gravestone. And blades of grass will rustle.
And I will hear a message, delivered very clearly:
“Change your direction, stranger. You had the wrong idea.
I'm not a mighty goddess, nor an aloof enchantress.
Though, I exist in ways that no human can imagine:
I can forego enjoyment, I can refrain from loving,
I can cast off my memories, I can deny my sorrow,
I can be mute and absent - but I cannot refuse to die...”

And once again there's quiet. But soon, indistinct footsteps
Will creak along the pathway – must be the local guardsman -
He'll ask me, what's the honour? And I will lie and tell him
That I mixed up the address. And turn to face the gateway.
And mirth will shake the gravestone. And blades of grass will tremble.
And with his muffled footsteps, the guard will cross the treshold,
To mark my name upon his long-cultivated guest book.
Thus turns to writing that, which - once upon a time - was me.


Издалека вернувшись туда, где не был долго...
Михаил Щербаков

Издалека вернувшись туда, где не был долго,
взамен жилья и счастья найду пустые стены.
А в цветнике у дома за чугуном ажурным
увижу плоский камень, прочту на камне имя -
и, прислонясь к решетке, произнесу в смятенье:
"Ну как же так, Мария? Я ожидал иного.
Я думал, ты еще раз спасешь меня, как прежде.
Я был уверен. Я полагал, ты можешь все..."

И шевельнется камень, и покачнутся стебли.
И я услышу голос, который внятно молвит:
"Меняй дорогу, путник. Ты был неправ, как видишь.
Я не богиня вовсе, и не колдунья даже,
хоть и могу такое, чего никто не может:
могу не знать отрады, могу не быть любимой,
могу не ждать, не помнить, могу не петь,. не плакать,
могу не жить на свете, но не могу не умирать..."

И снова все умолкнет. Но вскоре тихим шагом
из дома выйдет некто - должно быть, местный сторож -
и спросит, чем обязан. И я солгу поспешно,
что перепутал адрес. И повернусь к воротам.
И засмеется камень, и отшатнутся стебли.
И тихим шагом сторож пойдет обратно к дому,
чтоб начертать отметку в своей учетной книге.
Так превратится в почерк то, что когда - то было мной.

(Judge's literal crib and transliteration below):

From afar having returned there where I was not long,
Instead of habitation and happiness I shall find empty walls.
And in a flower bed at the house behind pig-iron openwork
I shall see a flat stone, read on a stone a name-
And, leaning on the lattice, I shall say in confusion:
" Well, is this so, Maria? I expected otherwise.
I thought, you once again will rescue{save} me, as before.
I have been assured{confident}. I believed, you can do all... "

Both the stone will be stirred, and stalks will sway.
And I shall hear a voice which distinctly says:
" Change road, traveller. You were wrong, as you see.
I am not a goddess at all, and not a sorceress even,
Though I can do such that nobody can:
I can not know a joy, I can not be a favourite,
I can not wait, not remember, I can not sing. I cannot cry,
I can not live on light, but I should die... "

And again all will stop. But soon silent step
The house will be left by somebody - should be, the local watchman-
Also will ask, than it is obliged. And I hastily lie,
That I have mixed the address. Also I shall turn to a gate.
Both the stone will laugh, and the stalks will recoil.
And with silent step the watchman will go back to the house,
To trace a mark in the registration book.
So that when - that which was me will turn to handwriting.



Izdaleka vernuvshis' tuda, gde ne byl dolgo...
Mihail Shherbakov

Izdaleka vernuvshis' tuda, gde ne byl dolgo,
vzamen zhil'ja i schast'ja najdu pustye steny.
A v cvetnike u doma za chugunom azhurnym
uvizhu ploskij kamen', prochtu na kamne imja -
i, prislonjas' k reshetke, proiznesu v smjaten'e:
"Nu kak zhe tak, Marija? Ja ozhidal inogo.
Ja dumal, ty eshhe raz spasesh' menja, kak prezhde.
Ja byl uveren. Ja polagal, ty mozhesh' vse..."

I shevel'netsja kamen', i pokachnutsja stebli.
I ja uslyshu golos, kotoryj vnjatno molvit:
"Menjaj dorogu, putnik. Ty byl neprav, kak vidish'.
Ja ne boginja vovse, i ne koldun'ja dazhe,
hot' i 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'..."

I snova vse umolknet. No vskore tihim shagom
iz doma vyjdet nekto - dolzhno byt', mestnyj storozh -
i sprosit, chem objazan. I ja solgu pospeshno,
chto pereputal adres. I povernus' k vorotam.
I zasmeetsja kamen', i otshatnutsja stebli.
I tihim shagom storozh pojdet obratno k domu,
chtob nachertat' otmetku v svoej uchetnoj knige.
Tak prevratitsja v pocherk to, chto kogda - to bylo mnoj.

[Jennifer Reeser]

Russian Operative Three, Zdrastvuytye.

Returning from a journey, to what I'd long abandoned...
Mikhail Scherbakov

Returning from a journey to what I'd long abandoned,
Instead of joy and comfort, I'll find an empty dwelling.
And in the flowerbed, by the house's twisted railing,
I'll see a flattened gravestone, and read a name upon it -
And, leaning on the railing, I will cry out in turmoil:
“How can this be, Maria? I didn't see this coming.

This is not bad, but to preserve the distinct tone and Russian flavor better, intensify the pathos, and hold onto the more accurate translation of the second phrase, “I expected something else,” I might suggest:
“Well, is this so, Maria? I looked for something other.”

I thought that you would save me, the way you always had done.

Too soon in the scheme, to be so metrically disputable. I suggest:

I thought, again you’d save me, as you had always saved me.
I trusted in your powers. I really thought you knew it all...”

Sherbakov’s sense here with this Russian form of “mozhe” in the second sentence is one of capability, not knowledge. The way you have rendered it, much of the tragedy is lost. I suggest:

I was assured. I trusted you could handle everything.
My words will move the gravestone. And blades of grass will rustle.

Beautifully done. I like this line very well. Three of the Russian words here could be translated “stone” “stirred,” and “stalks.” Great providence there, as far as alliteration, so you might consider a slight change, to:

“My words will stir the gravestone. And stalks of grass will rustle,” for more sonic effect.

And I will hear a message, delivered very clearly:

Again, a nice job of maintaining the Russian flavor in the above.

“Change your direction, stranger. You had the wrong idea.

“Change your direction, stranger. See you have been mistaken.” Perhaps? Maria is literally telling the speaker to look.

I'm not a mighty goddess, nor an aloof enchantress.

“Mighty” here is redundant, and the Russian is not saying that, anyway, but literally, “in the least.” Neither does "aloof" appear, but that phrase in the Russian is literally "not even a sorceress." Perhaps:

I’m not at all a goddess, nor even an enchantress.

Though, I exist in ways that no human can imagine:

The literal translation of this would be something like, “Though I am capable of such things as no one.” Your version loses an important cohesiveness in the poem’s internal logic. Sherbakov is hearkening back to the previous observation, when the speaker says he thought she could do anything: mozhe. I have no specific suggestion, but would counsel you to find a way to restore this idea.

I can forego enjoyment, I can refrain from loving,
I can cast off my memories, I can deny my sorrow,
I can be mute and absent - but I cannot refuse to die...”

This above, I think, is perfect. You have taken strong liberties with some of the author's ideas, originally that Maria cannot be a favourite -- rather than "denying sorrow," etc., but it works. Though you must submit yourself to the fact that this "anglicizes" the tone, losing more of the Russian authenticity.

And once again there's quiet. But soon, indistinct footsteps
Will creak along the pathway – must be the local guardsman -
He'll ask me, what's the honour? And I will lie and tell him
That I mixed up the address. And turn to face the gateway.
And mirth will shake the gravestone.

(I love the way you have handled this transition from what the author wrote as literally, “the stone will laugh.” Resourceful, while maintaining integrity).

And blades of grass will tremble.
And with his muffled footsteps, the guard will cross the treshold, (typo here: “threshold”)
To mark my name upon his long-cultivated guest book.
Thus turns to writing that, which - once upon a time - was me.

Stop on a dime. Tight close.

[Adam Elgar]

Will we get a literal version, so that those of us who know no Russian can have a sense of what the translator has done with the original?

[Jennifer Reeser]

Mr. Elgar, neither crib nor transliteration was sent to me with the entry, but I have translated the piece myself, in a "slap-dash" way for the sake of expedience. I have added it above along with a transliteration, for those who wish to have the original sounds.

Just be aware -- these are not the intent of the entrant, but my own additions, separate from the entry, added without the consent of the writer, whose identity I do not know, and with whom I have no contact.

DG

[Katherine Smith]

Maybe because I've never heard of Scherbakov or this poem and don't speak Russian--so therefore have nothing to compare this as in the other three poems posted so far--but I love this translation and poem: the mood, the meter, the transitional moments as the poem moves towards its conclusion. I find this poem beautiful and satisfying.

[Seree Zohar]

Like Katherine, I find this one good and whole, and actually very much like how " I hadn't seen this coming" was reached, since I had expected something other means he hadn't expected what there is, which cd be rendered as I had not expected this which easily makes its way into [circular thought here] I hadn't seen this coming.
Overall there are some lovely word choices and sonics in this piece.

It's good to learn from 007's comments on the finer points of wording here and there.

[Skip Dewahl]

My words will move the gravestone There is no mention of his words in the original.

Though, I exist in ways that no human can imagine Too much of an inference in meaning from the original's.

I can refrain from loving, is not the same as I can not be a favourite

Quite a difference from the crib's I can not live on light, but I should die to I can be mute and absent - but I cannot refuse to die

Will creak along the pathway has no equivalent in S3-L2

There's nothing said about what's the honour? in S3-L3

No description of the guest book as long-cultivated in S3-L7


Excellent choice for a translation and a pretty good version here which needs a bit more semantic precision.

[Alex Pepple]

The translator has belatedly provided their own prose crib and transliteration. So, here you have it---

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.

[Adam Elgar]

This is movingly done. I've been hesitant about how to respond. Much of the English version works very well, and the overall achievement is admirable - just some unidiomatic quirks which trouble me: eg.

"what's the honour"

the abrupt tonal shift from "cry out in turmoil" to "didn't see this coming"

"muffled footsteps"

"upon his much-cultivated guest book"....