Poem
Bakhyt Kenzjejev
Как парашютные натянутые стропы
The roads of Western Europe humlike parachute lines stretched taut:
there you see the patches of Central Europe –
a cup of poison, a few ravines with grapevine,
and here is Eastern Europe, a partly rotted watermelon . . .
Some put the blame on Tartars, some on Communism.
It was not long ago that bashful Franz,
a pariah with his earlocks shaved off,
wandered amidst the pines and churches
of Europe where you will never find
a mate for a one-night stand, a man to share
a drink of pure alcohol with. He should have fled
to our land of tolstoys and dostoyevskys, where
the red hag trots in the deathly foam of sweat,
where he would write and shine until the day
they would do him in . . .
© Translation: 2011, Steven Seymour
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2011
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2011
Как парашютные натянутые стропы
Als strak gespannen parachutelijnen lopende wegen zoevend door het westen van Europa;
en daar het midden: bekers gif en dichte bossen,
ravijnen, opgesierd met wilde druiventrossen,
en ginds het oosten, meloen verrot door lage listen…
De schuld van de Tataren, of de communisten.
Wanneer zwierf stille Franz – de loser zonder peies –
door pijnboombossen en in protestantse kerken,
met geen om mee te vrijen, of om mee te hijsen?
Was hij gevlucht naar ons, Tolstojs en Dostojevski’s,
waar knollen snellen met het schuimrood op de kaken,
hij had geschreven als de ziekte, tot ze hem braken.
© Vertaling: 2011, Arie van der Ent
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
Как парашютные натянутые стропы
© 2003, Bakhyt Kenzjejev
From: Nevidimye
Publisher: OGI, Moscow
From: Nevidimye
Publisher: OGI, Moscow
Poems
Poems of Bakhyt Kenzjejev
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Как парашютные натянутые стропы
The roads of Western Europe humlike parachute lines stretched taut:
there you see the patches of Central Europe –
a cup of poison, a few ravines with grapevine,
and here is Eastern Europe, a partly rotted watermelon . . .
Some put the blame on Tartars, some on Communism.
It was not long ago that bashful Franz,
a pariah with his earlocks shaved off,
wandered amidst the pines and churches
of Europe where you will never find
a mate for a one-night stand, a man to share
a drink of pure alcohol with. He should have fled
to our land of tolstoys and dostoyevskys, where
the red hag trots in the deathly foam of sweat,
where he would write and shine until the day
they would do him in . . .
© 2011, Steven Seymour
From: Nevidimye
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW, Moscow
From: Nevidimye
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW, Moscow
Как парашютные натянутые стропы
The roads of Western Europe humlike parachute lines stretched taut:
there you see the patches of Central Europe –
a cup of poison, a few ravines with grapevine,
and here is Eastern Europe, a partly rotted watermelon . . .
Some put the blame on Tartars, some on Communism.
It was not long ago that bashful Franz,
a pariah with his earlocks shaved off,
wandered amidst the pines and churches
of Europe where you will never find
a mate for a one-night stand, a man to share
a drink of pure alcohol with. He should have fled
to our land of tolstoys and dostoyevskys, where
the red hag trots in the deathly foam of sweat,
where he would write and shine until the day
they would do him in . . .
© 2011, Steven Seymour
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2011, First published on PIW,
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