Elegija Josifu Brodskom (An Elegy to Joseph Brodsky)

Elegija Josifu Brodskom

1.

Kada je, zajedno sa Džonom Donom,
Usnulo sve što je pesnik
Slutio i video, započinjao i odlagao,
Sve dobre namere i rđava svakidašnjica,
Pokreti i dodiri, korak deteta
Koji je, koliko juče, mogao biti opisan,
A sada je samo dremež
Među mnogim snovima,
Predmeti ostavljeni na
Slučajno izabranim mestima
Ili pokrenuti neobrazloženom namerom,
Reči izgovorene s lakoćom
I ostavljene još koji čas
U praznjikavom prostoru,
Ili zatečene među upravo
Usredsređenim usnama,
Kada su i one usnule,
I ljudi i predeli,
I strasti svih ljudi
U oblicima svih predela,
Da li je taj san,
Započet kada je usnuo Džon Don,
Ime jednog zvuka,
Bio neki novi san
Ili se samo nastavila
Stara ona zatečenost,
Obamrlost pre jutarnjeg dremeža?

2.

I on je usnuo.
Vodeni žig tone u mulj i u san.
Usnula je imperija koja ga je prognala.
Sanja imperija na čijim je obalama
Pisao na dva jezika.

Takav pokret nismo prizvali.
Od voska koji je sastrugan
Sa pečata imperije
Ostalo je iza nokta
Kao trag čitavog napora.

Svima se spava.
Na svim jezicima
Ubrzavaju se reči
Pre no što postanu mrmor.
San je vreme odsustva.

3.

Šta da radimo sa snom
Koji se nikome ne može ispričati?
Ako se njime neće naseliti iskustvo,
Ako njime život nije zaustavljen
Da bi nanovo počeo?

Naprosto, to je san.
A biti u snu znači biti izmešten.

Šta se može učiniti sa takvim snom?
Šta se može učiniti sa svojim dremežom?
U rasutoj svetlosti
Ili u svedenom svetlu.
Svejedno je, tako je svejedno.

An Elegy to Joseph Brodsky

1.

When, together with John Donne,
Fell asleep all that the poet
Suspected and saw, started and put off,
All good intentions and rotten events of everyday life,
Movement and touch, the step of a child
Which, only yesterday, could have been described,
But now only a drowsiness
Among many dreams,
Objects left at
Places chosen randomly
Or pushed forward by an unexplained intention,
Words uttered with ease
And left for another instant
In the voidlike space,
Or caught between
Purposeful lips,
After they fell asleep, too,
Both men and landscapes,
And the passions of all the people
In the forms of all landscapes,
Was that dream,
Begun when John Donne fell asleep,
The name of a sound,
Was it some new dream
Or was it the continuation of that old uncertainty,
The numbness before the morning drowsiness?

2.

He also fell asleep.
The watermark sinks into the mud and into the dream.
The Empire that banished him has fallen asleep.
The Empire on whose strands
He wrote in two languages, is dreaming.

Such motion we have not called upon.
Of the sealing wax grated from
The seal of the Empire
Some remained under the nails
As a trace of all that strain.

All the people are sleepy.
In all languages
The words speed up
Before they become a murmur.
Dream is the time of absence.

3.

What do we do with a dream
That cannot to be retold to anyone?
If by it experience will not be inhabited,
If by it life is not held up
To be started anew?

Simply, it is a dream.
And to be in a dream means to be displaced.

What can one do with such a dream?
What can one do with his own drowsiness?
In the dispersed light
Or in the reduced light.
It doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t matter.

Translated: Djordje Krivokapic