There was a wheelcheer moving in front of me in the sunshine, and after it passed through a puddle there was a swallowtail butterfly balancing in its center. Its wings were glued together and it didn't wish to move, so I thought it injured. I lifted it by its wings and took it to the grass, so that no one would tread on it. There the beautiful yellow wings spread and the butterfly limped in air around the puddle, touching the asphalt and limping again in hesitation. Then it lowered itself in the middle of the puddle and put its wings together.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Butterfly in the Sidewalk
There was a wheelcheer moving in front of me in the sunshine, and after it passed through a puddle there was a swallowtail butterfly balancing in its center. Its wings were glued together and it didn't wish to move, so I thought it injured. I lifted it by its wings and took it to the grass, so that no one would tread on it. There the beautiful yellow wings spread and the butterfly limped in air around the puddle, touching the asphalt and limping again in hesitation. Then it lowered itself in the middle of the puddle and put its wings together.
a Mountain Man
The T was not very full, but you still had to squeeze in next to a stranger in order to sit. A cheery, perfect-looking family stood by a vertical hand rail. The father, lightweight lad with glasses, had a baby back-pack with a 1.5-year-old in it. From the eyes of the boy starved overexcitement stared. The T stopped and a blue-shirted mountain of a man treaded within. He stood across from the family, unshakable and mute as the T surged forward. Suddenly, his heavy gaze found the boy, and he smiled, lifting his lips with heaviness, as if they were, indeed, made of rock. The boy smiled back and hit the edge of the backpack with impatient and awkward hand. At this, the mountain-man felt a rocking impulse to shake of his silence, and his eyes faced the father as he addressed him with a smile and a mumble. Father did not expect the address, and watched incredulously, as words were born from the mumble of a stranger:
- It is like, like he has to smile, you know, - the stranger said.
The wife and mother in law looked at the mountain man cautiously, nodded and looked away. The mountain man felt the discrepancy between his words and that which stirred him to speak. He looked at the smiling boy again and mumbled a little more, as a mountain rumbles, compelled by fire from within.
- He just like, just has to smile, - he said and hesitated, - even the eyes are smiling.
The father nodded and produced a "yeah"-like noise. The family considered the matter concluded, but the mountain still looked at them and at the boy.
- There is a fire in them, - he said finally.
And the mountain stopped rumbling, feeling, perhaps, that it has reached the summit of eloquence. It stepped uneasily from one foot to the other, looked at the boy for one last time and at the unseeing parents and shuffled to the other end of the train.
- It is like, like he has to smile, you know, - the stranger said.
The wife and mother in law looked at the mountain man cautiously, nodded and looked away. The mountain man felt the discrepancy between his words and that which stirred him to speak. He looked at the smiling boy again and mumbled a little more, as a mountain rumbles, compelled by fire from within.
- He just like, just has to smile, - he said and hesitated, - even the eyes are smiling.
The father nodded and produced a "yeah"-like noise. The family considered the matter concluded, but the mountain still looked at them and at the boy.
- There is a fire in them, - he said finally.
And the mountain stopped rumbling, feeling, perhaps, that it has reached the summit of eloquence. It stepped uneasily from one foot to the other, looked at the boy for one last time and at the unseeing parents and shuffled to the other end of the train.
Zwielicht, Joseph von Eichendorff
Кто бы мог подумать, что немецкая лирика может быть такой чуткой и живой? Тем не менее, это именно так, и по счастливой случайности я писала сочинение о стихотворении «Zwielicht», написанном Eichendorff. Оно показалось мне несколько утрированным, - почти издевательством над романтическими страхами и волнениеями, порождаемыми природой. Однако, по прослушивании Liederkreis (op. 39) у Schumann, понятно, что стихотворение это, пожалуй, даже и не о сумерках, и намного трагичнее, чем кажется с первого взгляда. Вот моя попытка художественного перевода на русский и само стихотворение в орининале.
Сумерки
Расправил крылья полумрак,
Жутко движутся деревья,
Сном тяжелым бредут тучи -
Что означает этот страх?
Не пускай ее пастись одну,
В лесу трубя бредут охотники,
Замолкают и дальше бредут.
В этот час не верь ему,
За взглядом ласковым и голосом
Готовит войну он в коварной тиши.
Новорожденным завтра встает,
В ночи многое обронится,
Прячься, бодрствуй и будь готов!
Zwielicht, Joseph von Eichendorff
Dämmrung will die Flügel spreiten,
Schaurig rühren sich die Bäume,
Wolken ziehn wie schwere Träume -
Was will dieses Graun bedeuten?
Hast ein Reh du lieb vor andern,
Laß es nicht alleine grasen,
Jäger ziehn im Wald und blasen,
Stimmen hin und wider wandern.
Hast du einen Freund hienieden,
Trau ihm nicht zu dieser Stunde,
Freundlich wohl mit Aug und Munde,
Sinnt er Krieg im tückschen Frieden.
Hebt sich morgen neugeboren.
Manches bleibt in Nacht verloren -
Hüte dich, bleib wach und munter!
Saturday, May 26, 2007
On the Prowl
"Surely," I said, "not much wildlife remains in the city." Gees and squirrels don't count in Boston, of course. Nature, indignant, was swift with its rebuff.
At two in the morning that day I fancied a walk around my neighborhood. When I was lost in the contemplation of the ghostly light effects in the foliage and the swaying of an occasional passerby, my companion safeguarded me against running into a fluffy-tailed skunk. Luckily, the beast was concerned with his own affairs. A block or two later we stopped to look for a source of sudden bid-like chattering and with a surprise discovered a pair of raccoon eyes accosting us from the bushes. She walked out, a plump svelte body pivoted on delicate pale feet, and impassively walked away down the street. Yet, the sound did not seize, and we noticed a little creature in distress pacing the balustrade of the nearest house. "Rak-tak-tak-tak-tak. Mommy, Mommy," - he called more and more desperately, as he scrambled along back and forth and made an occasionally pass to come down.
Though the mother seemed determined to instill some independence into the youngster, tonight was not the night. His courage was not up to par, and she was forced to return and stop the undignified racket. Out of nowhere, a slick shadow appeared on the roof and slid down a drain pipe onto the balustrade: it was her with a stern and condescending look of a woman with arms akimbo. To her dismay, she found the youngster stuck in the railing, and fumbled him for some 5 minutes. We came as close and looked from below at the face of the creature, wild but unabashed, as it met, as we all do, the annoyances of its daily routine.
At two in the morning that day I fancied a walk around my neighborhood. When I was lost in the contemplation of the ghostly light effects in the foliage and the swaying of an occasional passerby, my companion safeguarded me against running into a fluffy-tailed skunk. Luckily, the beast was concerned with his own affairs. A block or two later we stopped to look for a source of sudden bid-like chattering and with a surprise discovered a pair of raccoon eyes accosting us from the bushes. She walked out, a plump svelte body pivoted on delicate pale feet, and impassively walked away down the street. Yet, the sound did not seize, and we noticed a little creature in distress pacing the balustrade of the nearest house. "Rak-tak-tak-tak-tak. Mommy, Mommy," - he called more and more desperately, as he scrambled along back and forth and made an occasionally pass to come down.
Though the mother seemed determined to instill some independence into the youngster, tonight was not the night. His courage was not up to par, and she was forced to return and stop the undignified racket. Out of nowhere, a slick shadow appeared on the roof and slid down a drain pipe onto the balustrade: it was her with a stern and condescending look of a woman with arms akimbo. To her dismay, she found the youngster stuck in the railing, and fumbled him for some 5 minutes. We came as close and looked from below at the face of the creature, wild but unabashed, as it met, as we all do, the annoyances of its daily routine.
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