Translations Archives - Page 3 of 13 - Los Cuadernos de Julia

Mikhail Lermontov – I Come Out To the Path, Alone…

On July 27, 1841 the great Russian Romanticist poet Mikhail Lermontov had been killed at the duel in Pyatigorsk. In his short lifetime, filled with romance, military service, and bitterness, he composed numerous poems, several long poems (Demon, Valerik) and ballads, plays (The Masquerade), short stories, and a novel The Hero Of Our Time that has long been in Russian school curriculum.

The poem “I Come Out To the Path, Alone” was composed in 1841 – the year Lermontov died, and prophetically carries the gloom of predestination. It successfully marries Russian melancholy with the Romanticist fighting spirit. The disillusioned protagonist foresees his death but wishes it would lead to eternal life where he could join and enjoy the Nature.

The poem was put to music and has long been a popular romance. It also featured in The Life of Klim Samgin becoming the epitome of the spiritual searches and disillusionment of all Gorky’s characters, caught up in the ever changing Russian life at the turn of the 19-20th cc.

The song in the extract is performed by Marina (Natalia Gundareva) and Kutuzov (Andrejs Zagars). The poem was translated into English in 1995 by Yevgeny Bonver.

I come out to the path, alone,
Night and wildness are referred to God,
Through the mist, the road gleams with stone,
Stars are speaking in the shinning lot.

There is grave and wonderful in heaven;
Earth is sleeping in a pale-blue light…
Why is then my heart such pined and heavy?
Is it waiting or regretting plight?

I expect that nothing more goes,
And for past I do not have regret,
I wish only freedom and repose,
I would fall asleep and all forget…

I would like to fall asleep forever,
But without cold sleep of death:
Let my breast be full of dozing fervor
For the life, and heave in gentle breath;

So that enchanting voice would ready
Day and night to sing to me of love,
And the oak, evergreen and shady,
Would decline to me and rustle above.

Alexander Blok – The Italian Impressions (Translation, An Extract)

Italian Impressions by Alexander Blok is a curious example of the Russian Symbolist poet visiting Italy and returning largely unimpressed

In 1909 The Italian Impressions by Alexander Blok came out of print. Blok wasn’t impressed to say the least, and his sentiments, in spite of his support of the revolutionary efforts of his own country, were rather negative the industrial development of Italy or, indeed, any other country. Below is an extract of my translation of this essay.

Alexander Blok, The Italian Impressions.

The Preface.

Time flies, civilization grows, mankind progresses.

19th century is the Iron Age. This is the age when a train of heavy-loaded carts runs along the cobbled road, drawn by exhausted horses pushed by people with mellow, pale faces. Their nerves are ruined by hunger and need, their open mouths extort swear words, and yet neither swearing, nor cries are heard. Only whips and reins can be seen, and every sound sinks in the deafening noise of the iron lines loaded on carts.

This entire century shakes, trembles and rumbles – like the same iron lines. People, these slaves of civilization, tremble in terror in front of its very face. Time flies; with each year, day and hour it becomes clearer that civilization is about to come down upon its own creators and to crush them; yet this doesn’t happen. Insanity continues: everything is forethought and predestined, and death is inevitable but it doesn’t hurry to arrive. What must be is not; what is ready is not happening. Revolutions strike, then calm down, then disappear. People always tremble in terror. They used to be human but no longer are they, only appearing such. They are slaves, animals, reptiles. What was called people is no longer protected by God, groomed by Nature, or pleased by Art. Those who were people no longer demand anything from God, Nature, or Art.

Civilization grows. At the start of the century Balzac spoke of “human comedy”. In the mid-century Sherr spoke of “tragi-comedy”. Today we have a street spectacle. The farce began when the first airplane took off.

The air has been conquered – what a magnificent sight to behold! One pathetic dandy whirled up in the sky. So a hen decided to fly: she spread her wings and flew over a pile of shit.

Do you know that every nut in the machine, every turn of a screw, every new technical achievement produces the masses of plebeians? Of course, you don’t know this, for you are “educated”, and “nobody compares to an educated person in his shallowness”, as your kind-hearted Ruskin once blurted out.

Translated into English © Julia Shuvalova 2012.

Pedro Saenz – La Tumba del Poeta

Pedro Saenz, The Poet’s Tomb

Pain of the Matador (photo by Greg Wesson)

The painting by Pedro Saenz La Tumba del Poeta reminds me of two things. One, is Pain of the Matador monument in Madrid; another is a poem by Nikolai Zabolotsky written shortly before his death when he and Alexander Tvardovsky visited Italy and stopped in Ravenna by Dante’s tomb. I translated this poem but I’m still slightly unhappy with two stanzas, so I’ll omit them.

To Florence-mother always a stepson,
I chose Ravenna as my final home.
Stranger, accuse me not; let Death alone
Torment the soul of the cheating one.

I didn’t take my broken lyre with me.
It rests in peace among my native people.
Why then you, Tuscany, for whom I’ve longed so deeply,
Now on my orphaned mouth are kissing me?

Go on, almight bellman, ring your bells!
The world is still awash with blood-red foam!
I chose Ravenna as my final home
But even here I found no rest.

Venus Anadyomene by Arthur Rimbaud

Representation of Venus Anadyomene in painting and in Arthus Rimbaud’s sonnet reveal two strikingly different viewpoints.

Titian, Venus Anadyomene

When we consider the impact that the Symbolists had on how the following generations of artists treated beauty, the best example may well be Arthur Rimbaud’s sonnet, Venus Anadyomene.

A contemporary of Degas and the Impressionists, Rimbaud, like painters, saw his Venus as a “real” woman, unravelling to us her terrifying beauty, complete with bad hair and cellulite. Rimbaud rampantly went against the custom image, showing the birth of Venus from behind. As Somerset Maugham would say in Cakes and Ale: or, the Skeleton in the Cupboard in 1930, it was unforgivable to write about women as if they had no anus at all – and Rimbaud in 1870 certainly held the same viewpoint.

Sandro Botticelli

So, as you proceed to reading Venus Anadyomene by Rimbaud in several languages, you may also compare various representations of the birth of Venus in painting, starting as early as a fresco in Pompeii. Rimbaud’s poem is also in sharp contrast with a melodic long poem by Rainer Maria Rilke that again studies Venus as it emerges from the water, facing us.

William Bougereau

Arthur Rimbaud – Venus Anadyomene (1870)

Comme d’un cercueil vert en ferblanc, une tête

De femme à cheveux bruns fortement pommadés

D’une vieille baignoire émerge, lente et bête,

Avec des déficits assez mal ravaudés;

Puis le col gras et gris, les larges omoplates

Qui saillent ; le dos court qui rentre et qui ressort;

Puis les rondeurs des reins semblent prendre l’essor;

La graisse sous la peau paraît en feuilles plates;

L’échine est un peu rouge, et le tout sent un goût
Horrible étrangement ; on remarque surtout
Des singularités qu’il faut voir à la loupe…

Les reins portent deux mots gravés : Clara Venus;

– Et tout ce corps remue et tend sa large croupe

Belle hideusement d’un ulcère à l’anus.

German translation by Eric Boerner

Theodore Chasseriau

Wie aus ‘nem Weißblechsarg erscheint ein Frauenkopf,

Die braunen Haare dick pomadisiert,

Aus alter Badewanne, träge, dumpf, es tropft,

Die Defizite sind nur mäßig renoviert.

Dann – feist und grau – der Hals, weit klaffen Schulterblätter,

Der kurze Rücken hebt sich, beugt sich wieder vor;

Dann schwingen Lendenwülste sich wie zum Flug empor;
Das Fett unter der Haut erscheint wie flachgeplättet;

Das Rückgrat ist leicht rot, vom Ganzen schwelt ein Duft

Befremdend fürchterlich; doch man bemerkt mit Lust

Die Einzelheiten dort, die nur die Lupe findet …

Und CLARA VENUS ist den Lenden eingraviert;

– Der ganze Leib bewegt sich, spannt den breiten Hintern

Und scheußlich schön erscheint am After ein Geschwür.

A fresco in Pompeii

Russian translation by Mikhail Kudinov

Из ржавой ванны, как из гроба жестяного,
Неторопливо появляется сперва
Вся напомаженная густо и ни слова
Не говорящая дурная голова.

И шея жирная за нею вслед, лопатки
Торчащие, затем короткая спина,
Ввысь устремившаяся бедер крутизна
И сало, чьи пласты образовали складки.

Чуть красноват хребет. Ужасную печать

На всем увидишь ты; начнешь и замечать
То, что под лупою лишь видеть можно ясно:

«Венера» выколото тушью на крестце…

Все тело движется, являя круп в конце,

Где язва ануса чудовищно прекрасна.

Brazilian Portuguese Translation by Ivo Barosso (source)

Antonio Lombardi

Qual de um verde caixão de zinco, uma cabeça

Morena de mulher, cabelos emplastados,

Surge de uma banheira antiga, vaga e avessa,

Com déficits que estão a custo retocados.

Brota após grossa e gorda a nuca, as omoplatas
Anchas; o dorso curto ora sobe ora desce;
Depois a redondez do lombo é que aparece;
A banha sob a carne espraia em placas chatas;

A espinha é um tanto rósea, e o todo tem um ar

Horrendo estranhamente; há, no mais, que notar

Pormenores que são de examinar-se à lupa…

Nas nádegas gravou dois nomes: Clara Vênus;
— E o corpo inteiro agita e estende a ampla garupa
Com a bela hediondez de uma úlcera no ânus.

Amaury-Duval

English translation by Wallace Fowlie

As from a green zinc coffin, a woman’s

Head with brown hair heavily pomaded

Emerges slowly and stupidly from an old bathtub,

With bald patches rather badly hidden;

Then the fat gray neck, broad shoulder-blades
Sticking out; a short back which curves in and bulges;

Then the roundness of the buttocks seems to take off;

The fat under the skin appears in slabs:

The spine is a bit red; and the whole thing has a smell

Strangely horrible; you notice especially
Odd details you’d have to see with a magnifying glass…

The buttocks bear two engraved words: CLARA VENUS;

—And that whole body moves and extends its broad rump

Hideously beautiful with an ulcer on the anus.

Another English Translation

J. A. D. Ingres

Out of what seems a coffin made of tin

A head protrudes; a woman’s, dark with grease –

Out of a bathtub! – slowly; then a fat face

With ill-concealed defects upon the skin.

Then streaked and grey, a neck; a shoulder-blade,

A back – irregular, with indentations –

Then round loins emerge, and slowly rise;

The fat beneath the skin seems made of lead;

The spine is somewhat reddish; then, a smell,
Strangely horrible; we notice above all

Some microscopic blemishes in front…

Horribly beautiful! A title: Clara Venus;

Then the huge bulk heaves, and with a grunt

She bends and shows the ulcer on her anus.

Monday Verses: George Orwell – Romance

Samuel J. Peploe – The Pink Dress. A Study of a Burmese Girl

I am reading a book by the famous Soviet writer and translator, Kornei Chukovsky. Among other things, he translated Walt Whitman into Russian. At some point he amassed all his observations and experience as a translator into a book on the subject, the one I am ploughing through now.

The problems that often haunt translators, especially who try to translate poetry, are those of equivalence and exactitude. On the one hand, we need to translate what is written, i.e. the words. On the other hand, we need to translate what was meant to be said, i.e. the meaning. Between the words and meaning usually sits an image that conveys an emotion – an altogether alien thing, if you dream of any sort of ‘scientific’ method to apply to the translation. As a result, some translators are carried away with the imagery of a poem, while others painstakingly render the words into the target language, with the hope that the reader, should she want so, will figure out the images and their emotional filling by herself.

According to Chukovsky, such should not be the case. A translator must aim at translating both the words and the ‘iconography’ of the poem, its emotional message, as well as meaning. I would also mention Goethe who said that a translator should reach for the un-translatable, in which case a true, accurate translation is at all possible. If we follow Goethe, this would mean that we need to first understand the imagery, emotions and meaning, before venturing to translate the words.

Chukovsky also studies various examples of correct and incorrect literary translations of poems. A great Russian Symbolist poet Konstantin Balmont, for instance (whom I love greatly as a poet in his own right), ‘Balmontised” Percy Bysshe Shelly so that Chukovsky jokingly says that the result was a new poet under the name of “Shelmont”. I have noticed in the past, and I guess this may have been his own method, that Balmont often expanded the poems, if they happened to be too short. As a result, Shelly who was sometimes short for words in a very English way became too eloquent and too Symbolist – just like Balmont.

Samuil Marshak, on another hand, would also occasionally be untrue to the exact words of the source poem. His gift, however, was in understanding the symbolic message of the original and the ability to convey it with the literary means of the target language. He was a great poet, after all.

I used his method when recently translating a poem Romance by George Orwell. I’ve been reading a lot of Orwell recently, and this particular poem has been translated a few times into Russian, but I do not think any translation is satisfactory, if only because nearly all of them thwart the Russian words one way too many. The story is very simple: a young soldier falls for a beautiful young girl, and wanting to satisfy himself and be good to her, offers her money in exchange for sex. The girl understands that one day or another a man would “know” her anyway, and since the soldier is asking kindly she raises the bar and instead of “twenty silver pieces” asks for “twenty five”.

This is a heart-rendering story of how Imperialism dehumanises relationships, even the most intimate, romantic and innocent of them. Now, the difference start with the title of the poem. “Romance” was widely translated as “романс”, a kind of Russian song, similar to the French chanson. I’d argue, however, that this not a song; I dare anyone to sing this “song” from the stage. Therefore, it is a romance in the sense of a romantic story, which is correct. None the characters in the poem is against another; the conflict is in the money that cynically underpins the story.

I omitted such “details” as Mandalay, for example; we’re already told that the soldier fell for a “Burmese girl”, and we know that Orwell did serve in Burma, so that will do. The comparisons he draws in the first two lines of the second stanza – “her skin was gold, her hair was jet, her teeth were ivory” – are rather banal (why should not a soldier be banal, anyway?) I reworded the lines as “her skin, and teeth, and jet-black hair are just like treasures”, which is correct, if we consider that gold and ivory were often found in treasure sites. And since the next two lines deal with the ‘sale’ of virginity, i.e. a kind of betrayal, I thought it best to translate “twenty silver pieces” in a way that clearly nods to the thirty silver pieces for which Judas had sold Jesus.

The third stanza is slightly more complex as it gives out so many clues as to what the girl feels: her voice is lisping, virgin, i.e. childish, her look is sad – but she realises that she is offered money for something precious, and she “stands out” for a higher price for this “treasure”. The verb indicates that she does not merely ask for more money, but sort of “pushes” the price. There is no indication if she was prepared to bargain, but this may well have been the case.

George Orwell – Romance (1925)

When I was young and had no sense
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.

Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said, ‘For twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me’.

She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice
Stood out for twenty-five.

Когда еще я молод был
И сердцем, и умом,
Бирманку юную любил
Я в том краю чужом.

Улыбка, кожа, смоль волос –
Сокровища точь-в-точь.
Я двадцать сребреников дал,
Чтоб провести с ней ночь.

Но грустным детским голоском
Она за первый цвет
Потребовала от меня
Все двадцать пять монет.

Russian translation © Julie Delvaux, 2012

Note on the painting: I used a painting by Samuel John Peploe (1871-1935) as the illustration to this post. I could not find the date he painted the portrait; however, the painting was presented at the Sotheby’s in 2006.

Is There a Connection Between Bilingualism and Asperger Syndrome?

Image: Thoughful India. I couldn’t resist including it… 🙂

Some time ago I took part in a research project conducted by a Russian Psychology student that seeks to explore the phenomenon of bilingualism.

And I’ve been really captivated myself by another phenomenon – autism, its “variants”, and advantages and disadvantages that go along with it. I am particularly interested in Asperger’s Syndrome as it most often remains undiagnosed and therefore a percentage of people having it may be higher than it is assumed.

Aspies often possess an above-the-average ability to focus on something. This can go both ways, in that this hyperfocus they are naturally capable of can see them being drawn to things that are not necessarily worthwhile. But if they focus on the “right” thing – say, language – they can show tremendous results. Be it mere memorising or a genuine linguistic affinity, Aspies can develop either to its full potential and hence become fully operational in two languages or more.

Autism in general is described in terms of a severe lack of social skills, but whereas “regular” autists are unlikely to learn to communicate, Aspies are different. The examples I’ve read about indicate that Aspies are capable of establishing a connection, communicating and socialising, but they don’t get the “language” of it all. Double meaning, tongue-in-cheek, various “codes” bewilder them. Whereas a “normal” person uses and “gets” all those signs with a relative ease, Aspies struggle.

Supposing that social language is just another linguistic system, it makes no sense that Aspies should not be able to comprehend it, let alone to use it. My guess would be the method of teaching the “language” in either case. While language has a set of rules, some of which can only be used in one particular instance, social language is all about double meanings. Saying truth is encouraged, and lies are despicable, yet saying truth is not always good, and telling lies is not always bad. Worse still, there is a rule for each specific case.

My guess is that high-functioning Aspies may lack empathy, taking things at face value and speaking up their mind with no concern for others. So, whereas a “normal” child would simply rely on his feelings, an Aspie may be less open to that. This affects the understanding of the “social code”, unless an Aspie develops an intuition that can serve as a bridge between the rational and emotional parts of his brain.

But suppose a person is an Aspie and is bilingual. By “bilingual” I hereby mean an above-the-average vocabulary that allows to use synonyms to describe a single physical act (i.e. using “see”, “regard”, “watch”, “look”, “view”, “observe”, to denote a single act of “eyeing”). If they lack “social language”, how can they correctly use a foreign language in a foreign setting? The answer is, apparently, that they may memorise set examples of behaviour and conversations; however, when prompted to improvise, they may feel insecure.

The last question that interests me is whether or not an Aspie could be a successful simultaneous interpreter. If yes, then we are certainly talking about the situation when the second native language has been developed to such level that the person performs an operation not dissimilar to that of a search engine, browsing his vocabulary in real time to deliver the most precise interpretation.

Your thoughts? Any literature you can recommend on the subject?

Boris Pasternak – It Is Not Seemly to Be Famous

Boris Pasternak – It Is Not Seemly to Be Famous reads as an artist’s manifesto of the importance of inner growth over the public fame

5157 — An autograph of Boris Pasternak’s poem

These were the thoughts running through Pasternak’s mind in 1956, two years before when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature that he had to decline due to political outrage it caused in the Soviet Union. It quite runs against the grain of “personal branding” concept and “overnight fame” culture of the recent years, widely propagated thanks to the Internet. Even today Boris Pasternak – It Is Not Seemly to Be Famous reads as a manifesto of the artist’s task to focus on his inner growth instead of making a public image.

It is also interesting to note some parallels between Pasternak’s poem and Rainer Maria Rilke’s Der Schauende that Pasternak translated into Russian. The central theme of Rilke’s poem is the futility of a man’s pursuit of worldly fame in favour of the more superiour gifts from God. Likewise, Pasternak beseeches an artist to lead such life that makes him “loved by wide expanses and hear the call of future years“. “But you yourself must not distinguish Your victory from your defeat” is another debt to Rilke’s poem, its latter part where the German poet compares the artist’s true quest to an Old Testament’s image of Angel of God who wins over a person in order to help the person grow. We need to submit ourselves to the force that better knows out potential, otherwise we cannot grow. Pasternak, in his turn, refines the point by reminding that a man, especially an artist, should not indulge in his achievements and remember that every victory may have a defeat lurking underneath, and vice versa.

You may find interesting:

Boris Pasternak at Academy of American Poets

Boris Pasternak’s Poetry at RuVerses

Boris Pasternak – It is not seemly to be famous… (1956)

It is not seemly to be famous:
Celebrity does not exalt;
There is no need to hoard your writings
And to preserve them in a vault.

To give your all-this is creation,
And not-to deafen and eclipse.
How shameful, when you have no meaning,
To be on everybody’s lips!

Try not to live as a pretender,
But so to manage your affairs
That you are loved by wide expanses,
And hear the call of future years.

Leave blanks in life, not in your papers,
And do not ever hesitate
To pencil out whole chunks, whole chapters
Of your existence, of your fate.

Into obscurity retiring
Try your development to hide,
As autumn mist on early mornings
Conceals the dreaming countryside.

Another, step by step, will follow
The living imprint of your feet;
But you yourself must not distinguish
Your victory from your defeat.

And never for a single moment
Betray your credo or pretend,
But be alive-this only matters-
Alive and burning to the end.

Translated by Lydia Pasternak Slater

Russian Elections 2012: Fashion and Donkeys

There is my poetic translation of Omar Khayyam at the end of the post.

–Fashion–

Fashion Icon, Russia, 2012

Farewell to the days when Liberty led the Revolution and didn’t care for its look. This is how Delacroix depicted the French Liberté: no make-up, bare-chested, in rattles, with a flag in her hand.

E. Delacroix, La Liberté guidant le peuple (1830)

The painting by Delacroix commemorated the July 1830 Revolution in Paris. It’s winter in Moscow, so one may say it’s enough that women get out of their houses at all, never mind baring chests. However, the Tatler Club glamour has left a profound impact on politically minded ladies and fashion bloggers. So profound it is that a new blog has started, and it’s called Fashion Protest. Set up by a young designer who has had a chance to create several unique dresses for the high-end clientele, the blog features “looks” seen in the crowds of protesters since December 2011, including some celebrities. Frankly speaking, the photo of a girl that apparently collected many “likes” across various social networds freaks me out. Wearing flourescent glasses, a fox fur coat, and a shawl, a girl, with her half-open rouge pout, clinges on to a wooden poster wand. Maybe this is how Yulia Timoshenko would look like, had the Orange Revolution happened in January. I suspect, though, that the look would inspire Gogol, Wodehouse, or Burgess to write a pretty satyrical piece on the political tastes of women.

–Donkeys–

Until 2012, it was normally people only who backed the elections. Singers, actors, writers, film directors… Fast forward to March 2012, and here comes a donkey. A pretty ordinary creature, except that some time ago it was given as a present to Vladimir Zhirinovsky, an eccentric Russian politician, leader of the Liberal-Democratic Party who is currently running for presidency.

The story at hand is a good case of how to overestimate people’s ability to grasp the subtle meaning of a metaphor. Zhirinovsky put a harness on a donkey and then delivered a short speech on Russia’s degradation. There used to be magnificent horses who took the country to unprecedented heights. Now there are only stupid donkeys who cannot get going until you give them a punch. Naturally a good actor, the donkey stood, unmovable. And then, to showcase the effort he puts into Russia’s awakening, Zhirinovsky began to whip the donkey. Those who watched the video attest to a rather cruel way of dealing with an animal, even for “creative” purposes.

PETA and WSPA were not amused and demanded the withdrawal of a campaign’s video.

The staff of Zhirinovsky’s electoral campaign stated that the donkey was previously given to the politician as a present. The candidate himself claims that he did not cruelly deal with an animal, and had no intention to do so in future. Zhirinovsky went on to say: “In my house this donkey lives better than very many people out there, but if someone is so concerned for his well-being, they can take him and look after him“. According to Russian media, the donkey indeed stays at Zhirinovsky’s country house, safe and sound.

The Central Electoral Committee confirmed that there have been no restrictions on using animals in electoral campaigns.

One could end it here, but here comes a bit of “use of English”. After all, it is good that Zhirinovsky had a donkey. What if instead of a donkey there was a monkey? “Don’t beat your ass” is colloquial, but OK. It could be “don’t beat your monkey”, and that would be a totally different story…

–What would a poet say–

Two weeks ago on my way home, while on the tube, I translated what is believed to be one of the quatrains by Omar Khayyam. I found it in a Russian collection, so whether it was really by Khayyam or not, I am not sure. However, the meaning is clear, and I thought it would be a good ending to the story surrounding Russian elections in 2012.

One Taurus sits high in celestial block;
Another’s back supports the worldly stock;
And now between the two – behold and wonder! –
How many asses there in Allah’s flock.

And a Russian text:

Один Телец висит высоко в небесах,
Другой своим хребтом поддерживает прах,
А меж обоими тельцами – поглядите! –
Какое множество ослов пасет Аллах.

Monday Verses: Translator’s Notes on Robert Burns’s Sonnet Upon Sonnets

R. Burns, A Sonnet upon Sonnets (courtesy of NBC).

Today is a wonderful day in my life, all about translations. I have received a permission to publish my translation of a 20th c. poet’s work from their descendant. On the way back home I did a strange thing of translating a Russian version of Omar Khayyam’s short poem into English. I’d need to check the translations of The Rubaiyat, to see if the poem is actually there.

And I have just finished working on translation of Robert Burns’s Sonnet upon Sonnets. Apparently, it was Burns’s first try at composing sonnets, so what seems to have happened – to judge by the last two lines – he burnt the midnight oil (“lucubrations“) to list the times the magic number “fourteen” lurks in our lives. And being Burns, he didn’t differentiate between the profane and high matters, starting with eggs and chickens, through “bright bumpers” (i.e. brimming glasses of drink), to the theme of Life and Death. Just as he ran out of his “lucubrations”, a sonnet was about to end.

It must be said that for the first attempt the sonnet came out very “good measured“, a Shakespearean sonnet (abab, cdcd, efef, gg). As the editors at the National Burns Collection note, “the meaning of this sonnet is focused on the form of sonnets, namely fourteen lines written in iambic pentameter coupled with a strong rhyme-scheme“. However, there is a subtler meaning here: a sonnet’s fourteen is such a powerful and omnipresent number, which means that Poetry is everywhere: you only have to look at “your hen” with “fourteen eggs beneath her wings“, and you can wrap it into a poetic form. A Sonnet upon Sonnets is a sublime manifestation of Burns’s genius.

I cannot say translating the poem was difficult, although certain lines did require a bit of thinking. It seems that the only reason Burns alludes to a jockey in the fifth line is because he’d made a connection between a jockey’s age and that of the horse in line 6, and he needed to introduce the jockey to the reader. So he found no better way of doing so than by using a jockey’s weight, in which 1 stone indeed contains 14 pounds. Without understanding this, one starts guessing all sorts of meanings behind “a jockey’s stone“.

National Burns Collection draws our attention to the fact that each line has a separate association. Thanks to the “jockey’s stone”, I’d suggest to think of the pairs of lines. 3rd and 4th lines are associated with hen, eggs, and chickens (= the origin of life); 5th and 6th – with the jockey, his horse, and their ages (= youth and senility); 7th and 8th – with the Poet’s impoverished life (= a nod to Burns himself); 9th and 10th – with the numbers 12, 13, and 14, the conflict between them and superiority of number 14 (= the theme of Power and power struggles); 11th and 12th – with Life received through a woman and Death that comes from men (= Life and Death).

Четырнадцать! Поэтом восхвалён,
Как много чудных тайн в тебе – не счесть!
Четырнадцать яиц у квочки под крылом, –
Четырнадцать цыплят взлетают на нашест.

Четырнадцать в жокейском стоуне мер;
Четырнадцать годин – уж старость для коняг;
Четырнадцать часов нередко Бард говел,
Не знает он восторг четырнадцати фляг!

Перед четырнадцатью дюжина не в счет;
Четырнадцати тринадцать не сильней;
В четырнадцать лет мать нас в мир ведет;
Уводят из него четырнадцать мужей.

Какой пример в ночи я б вспомнить мог?
Четырнадцать – в сонете стройных строк.

Robert Burns – A Sonnet upon Sonnets (1788)

Fourteen, a sonneteer thy praises sings;
What magic myst’ries in that number lie!
Your hen hath fourteen eggs beneath her wings
That fourteen chickens to the roost may fly.
Fourteen full pounds the jockey’s stone must be;
His age fourteen – a horse’s prime is past.
Fourteen long hours too oft the Bard must fast;
Fourteen bright bumpers – bliss he ne’er must see!
Before fourteen, a dozen yields the strife;
Before fourteen – e’en thirteen’s strength is vain.
Fourteen good years – a woman gives us life;
Fourteen good men – we lose that life again.
What lucubrations can be more upon it?
Fourteen good measur’d verses make a sonnet.

Пояснение на русском.

Написанный в 1788 году, “Сонет о сонетах” считается первой попыткой Роберта Бёрнса использовать эту форму. Судя по употребленному в предпоследней строке слову “lucubrations” (“усердное размышление, протекающее ночью”), Бёрнс при свете ночной лампы перечислял все случаи, когда в нашей жизни встречается магическое число 14. В своих “штудиях” Бёрнс остается собой: он не делает разницы между “высокими” и “низкими” материями, идя от курицы с яйцами и цыплятами через “яркие фляги” до темы Жизни и Смерти. И ровно к моменту, как все “lucubrations” были исчерпаны, оказался закончен и сонет.

Надо сказать, что для первой попытки у Бёрнса получился очень “стройный” шекспировский сонет (abab, cdcd, efef, gg). Однако при кажущемся “маньеризме” в сонете заложена очень глубокая идея: как “сонетное” число 14 можно найти в самых разных жизненных сюжетах, так и Поэзия присутствует повсюду. Достаточно увидеть квочку, у которой под крылом четырнадцать яиц, – и вот готовый поэтический образ. В “Сонете о сонетах” тончайшим образом проявляется гений Бёрнса.

На перевод у меня ушел целиком весь вечер, хотя над парой строчек пришлось поработать. Особенно это касается “jockey’s stone”. Осмелюсь предположить, что Бёрнс вначале написал строчку про коня, после чего, естественно, потребовалось представить публике и жокея. И он не нашел ничего лучше, чем провести аналогию с весом жокея: действительно, по британской системе мер и весов в 1 стоуне – 14 фунтов. Не поняв это, конечно, начинаешь искать “скрытые смыслы” выражения “a jockey’s stone”.

Ну, и продолжая и улучшая мысль редакторов Национальной Коллекции Роберта Бёрнса, я думаю, что Бёрнс не просто выделял одну строчку для одной ассоциации. Речь скорее нужно вести о парах строк. Таким образом, не считая двух первых и двух последних строк, получаем следующее: 3 и 4 строки – курица, яйца и цыплята (= зарождение жизни); 5 и 6 – жокей, его лошадь и их возраст (= тема молодости и старости); 7 и 8 – бедное существование поэта (= сам Бёрнс); 9 и 10 – конфликт чисел 12, 13 и 14 и превосходство 14-ти (= власть и борьба за нее); 11 и 12 – Жизнь, получаемая от женщины, и Смерть, приходящая от мужей (= тема Жизни и Смерти).

A Memorandum of Leonardo Da Vinci (1490s)

A memorandum of Leonardo da Vinci is no ordinary to-do list: it is a map of mental search and intellectual development that illuminates the nature of genius

I’ve been writing my to-do lists religiously since 2010. Before that I always used to make a list for groceries shopping (because you cannot possibly remember all the items you need to buy, especially when the respective shelves are scattered all over the store). And I had also made notes of what needed to be done, but I rarely set it up as a list. Then one day in 2010 I had to run 8 places for errands, so I wrote them all up in a list, grouped them by location… and by the end of the day I did visit them all! This was a real proof of the list-mania working, so I just carried on.

Frankly speaking, my lists mostly deal with work and errands. Work – because I do a lot of that, and unless I list and prioritise I won’t accomplish much. Errands – because I love doing my work, and I may genuinely forget paying that bill or buying that item. So, I have to be really exacting.

More seldom, unfortunately, I schedule breaks and rest and other activities, like sport or languages. I think this is where I need to up the level of my list-making.

Yet I’m sure very few of us follow in Leonardo’s footsteps, whose to-do list is in the photo. Strictly speaking, this list is called a “memorandum of Leonardo da Vinci”, and it’s not exactly a “to-do list” but rather a reminder of things one needs, or wants, to do, know, learn, and ask about. As I see it, there’s a difference between the two. A to-do list has a trait of immediacy; it’s usually a list of actions one needs to take in a more or less precise frame of time. That’s why it’s a list, and that’s why it may even have times added to it, to make it more like a timetable.

The memorandum of Leonardo da Vinci is of a different nature. It is a list of subjects for contemplation and investigation. Obviously, learning the size of the Sun isn’t the most important thing on anyone’s agenda, neither is the Lombard manner of repairing locks, or understanding why on Earth the Tower of Ferrara has the wall without a single loophole. This is a list of things a person wants to learn. I’d rather think of it as a map of a learning process, and as such it is far more valuable than a mere to-do list. How many of us jot down things they want to learn? Those little matters that tickle our curiosity, do you write them down or just let them die off? How many of us actually expand the learning process beyond an immediate field of specialisation?

The image is taken from a post by Robert Krulwich, Leonardo’s To-Do List.