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My Freshest Poetic Translations out of BrodskyBy Joseph A. Brodsky The English Poetic Translations by Anna A. Polibina-Polansky *** A Sketchery ("Holui tryasyotsya, rab hohotchet...") A servant trembles. Slaves are chuckling. A killer sharpens iron sickles. A tyrant tortures rivals buckled. The wintry moon is sparkling meekly. It's an ill glimpse of homeland's fortune. A soldier does torment a virgin. An aged lady scratches thighs. A pupil, for an old view, spies; It bears its unearthly burden. The dog barks, and the wind does blow. The caravan at deserts, flow. BorIs and Gleb scratch fists, in glow. The pairs twirl by walses' songs. The shit, so, to its nook, belongs. The moon is torturing the sight. The cloud reminds sick brain, at heights. So let the artist, s.o.b., Depict a glimpse of spark-and-beam. 1972/tr. 2020
24.04.2020 | Anna Polibina-Polansky's blog Cat. : The English poetry's translations from Brodsky
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