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Silvia Lanzalone | Emanuela Mentuccia
le sue mani senza guanti
sono rosse come la vergogna
© Emanuela Mentuccia
Соседка вчера потеряла собачку прекрасную, Тита.
Стоит и сжимает комочек снега в ладонях.
Руки ее без перчаток красны, будто стыд.
Вот что увидела я, утром выйдя из дома.
Иди, обними меня, будто мы знаем друг друга
и будто мы все еще можем друг друга утешить.
Уйди от меня, сумасшедшая, –
вот что сказала соседка.
*
Мне соседи мои не знакомы;
их странные лица,
что я встречаю в подъезде, идя на работу
или с работы.
Я тоже такая для них: лицо в полумраке подъезда хрущевки,
чужое, как снег, и как снег –
исчезающее.
*
Улице зимней тонкой,
сумасшедшей соседке,
пропавшей ее собачке,
скажем теперь:
хвала.
Тихим и голым веткам,
лицам таким же тихим,
жестокому зимнему ветру,
скажем теперь:
хвала.
Голосу еле слышному,
голосу настоящему,
правде, холодом высеченной
на нас –
хвала.
Неведомому Тому-то,
голубому на белом,
и тишине, звенящей
холодом:
хвала.
декабрь 2011
And a neighbor-lady the other day lost her glorious dog, Tita.
And now she stands and chews
a clump of snow in her palm.
And a hand without a glove
is red as a shame.
And this I saw, in the morning, walking out of my window.
Walk, hug my torso, as if I know your torso.
Walk as if a hand can console a human torso.
(Step away from me, you idiot, my neighbor-lady yells.)
*
I am unaware of the concept of neighbors
Their faces, strange,
I see in backyards, on the morning walk to work
on the evening walk from work
I see their faces.
(And my body to their eyes, my body, is snow)
Momentary beings, lungs
in snow
who can console snow, lungs?
*
To winter’s narrow splinter
Of a street, to an idiot neighbor
And her idiot dog
We will now announce:
glory.
To quiet and naked branches of poplars
To faces also quiet
In winter’s splinter
Of a wind, say:
glory.
To a voice you don’t hear
The real
Voice, cold, cut from stone in
a bone:
glory.
To no one, unknown
One blue on white
And quiet that splinters
the winter:
glory.
(Translated from the Russian by Katie Farris and Ilya Kaminsky)
Le immagini di (a)live - memoria nelle parole sono di Emanuela Mentuccia, i suoni sono di Silvia Lanzalone, la traduzione italiana dei versi è a cura di Silvia Lanzalone ed Emanuela Mentuccia.
Le poesie da cui sono stati estrapolati i versi sono state selezionate dal sito webWords for War: New Poems from Ukraine, che è una pubblicazione di Academic Studies Press and Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute - © 2022, Borderlines Foundation for Academic Studies © 2022, Academic Studies Press.
The images of (a)live - memoria nelle parole are by Emanuela Mentuccia, the sounds are by Silvia Lanzalone, the Italian translation of the verses used is by Silvia Lanzalone and Emanuela Mentuccia. The poems from which the verses were extrapolated were selected from the website Words for War: New Poems from Ukraine, that is a publication by Academic Studies Press and Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute - © 2022, Borderlines Foundation for Academic Studies © 2022, Academic Studies Press.
© Silvia Lanzalone 2022
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