Marshak

Samuel Marshak

Translated by Natasha Gotskaya © 2008 - 2009

***

How many birch trees did you see in this world?

It’s likely - just two, maybe three,

All trimmed with the silver of first winter cold

Or dressed in the green veil of spring

Or, maybe, in summer you’d come back at home,

And sunlight would fill all your place,

And through open windows а clear birch bole

Would shine radiating light rays.

Were there many mornings you saw morning light?

Perhaps, no more than a few,

When wondering idly till dawn in the wild,

Disturbing the droplets of dew.

Did you often clearly see your loved ones?

T’ was only those few times,

When still was your mind, was unhurried your glance,

Was steadfast the gaze of your eyes.

***

A human being, as much as he is grand,

Essentially, is just a thinking plant.

We are related to all trees and grass,

And their kinship can’t belittle us.

We're given from before our birth

The steadfastness of plants, their life force.

***

Although the ages wait in line,

After we’re gone, to blossom,

The world keeps dying every time,

With every single person.

***

The world won’t sink into the past

When our time is out,

While our descendants last

There’ll be eternal now.

***

Condemned to die is all earthly living substance,

But human beings are punished even more:

They are to be aware of death sentence,

Pronounced at the moment they were born.

Aware that the life is a short transition,

They live in such a way, in spite of all,

As if eternity is in their disposition,

As if they govern and possess the whole of world.

***

Be grateful for your ear and eyesight,

For green and blue, for dark and light,

For all that you possess by birthright,

By simple words “I am alive”

Oh, love your life while you are here!

The death is just a blink away.

And everything will disappear:

Stars, nettle, books, and your ashtray.

The sun will hardly even scan it

When in the depth of certain eyes

On this small ordinary planet

Its own light forever dies.

***

The breathing flows freely in a vowel,

A consonant is standing in its way.

The harmony is their interplay

When their interchange is in your power.

The consonants are silver and brass winds,

The vowels are jewels of intoning.

And what a blessedness if you can sing

Or just breathe in - breath out a poem.

***

A man had crawled on all four

Until his clever grandsons

Risked to give up their front paws,

And turned them into man-hands.

No one would ever reach the skies

Defying Earthly bounds

If didn’t dare sacrifice

Excessive stores of balance.

***

All those breathing in this world

And thinking they are highest class

Are just reflections – nothing more –

Reflections in a glass.

What people I did know in life –

So full with passion, purpose,

But all of them were simply wiped

Away from glassy surface.

I know, we’re condemned to die,

Doomed from the very start of being,

But still I can’t conceive it - why

Reflections should be suffering?

And is it just a dream indeed -

The roar of mighty battle,

The whiz of a mind-boggling speed,

The very last death-rattle?

***

At times, a common clock leads us astray,

It keeps us tranquil by a little cheating:

It points to the same time on different days,

And we believe the time to be repeating.

Rotation of the calendar misleads:

A day of week comes back, a month, a season,

As if it in reality repeats.

And we forget "as if" for a good reason.

We know: we can't return a month, a day.

We know: the past is gone forever, always.

But cycles of calendar, a round clock-face

Don't let us feel that our flight's one-way.