The Upas Tree1
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the poem in Russian
On parched and conflagrated sands,
In sapped and grudging desolation,
The solitary Upas stands
Grim sentinel of all creation.
This thing was spawned one day of rage
From nature of the thirsting plain
That slaked the death-green foliage
And deep-set roots with sap of bane.
The venom oozes down the bark
Turned liquid in the midday blaze,
Congealing come the fall of dark
To clots of cruel, translucent glaze.
No tigers come nor birds alight.
None but the wind's black breath will dare
Circle about that tree of blight
And leave with newly deadly air.
And, should an errant cloud imbue
With rain the rank leaves' laden glands,
The branches drip a baneful dew
Onto incendiary sands.
But once a man dispatched a man
With one dread glance to that dead waste
And he obeyed. Away he ran
And brought the poison back with haste,
Its lethal sap, its waxen bough
And desiccated leaves. The sweat
Across his sallow, stricken brow
Ran in a chilling rivulet.
He stumbled, sprawling in the hut
On a bast mat for his reward:
A poor slave's death before the foot
Of his invulnerable lord.
And in that poison brew their Tsar
Dipped arrows under his command,
And loosed perdition near and far
On men of every neighboring land.
Notes:
1 The Upas Tree (Antiaris Toxicaria) produces a latex sap which, upon entering the human blood stream, causes cardiac arrest almost immediately. This sap has historically been used in central and east Asia in blowdarts and arrows.
Many thanks to: Dmitri Simenov for a Russian lexical item; Adam Elgar and Andrew Frisardi for advice on the English text; Lina Steiner for the encouragement after I foisted this translation on her.
The Original:
Анчар
Древо Яда
Александр Пушкин
By Alexander Pushkin
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the poem in Russian
On parched and conflagrated sands,
In sapped and grudging desolation,
The solitary Upas stands
Grim sentinel of all creation.
This thing was spawned one day of rage
From nature of the thirsting plain
That slaked the death-green foliage
And deep-set roots with sap of bane.
The venom oozes down the bark
Turned liquid in the midday blaze,
Congealing come the fall of dark
To clots of cruel, translucent glaze.
No tigers come nor birds alight.
None but the wind's black breath will dare
Circle about that tree of blight
And leave with newly deadly air.
And, should an errant cloud imbue
With rain the rank leaves' laden glands,
The branches drip a baneful dew
Onto incendiary sands.
But once a man dispatched a man
With one dread glance to that dead waste
And he obeyed. Away he ran
And brought the poison back with haste,
Its lethal sap, its waxen bough
And desiccated leaves. The sweat
Across his sallow, stricken brow
Ran in a chilling rivulet.
He stumbled, sprawling in the hut
On a bast mat for his reward:
A poor slave's death before the foot
Of his invulnerable lord.
And in that poison brew their Tsar
Dipped arrows under his command,
And loosed perdition near and far
On men of every neighboring land.
Notes:
1 The Upas Tree (Antiaris Toxicaria) produces a latex sap which, upon entering the human blood stream, causes cardiac arrest almost immediately. This sap has historically been used in central and east Asia in blowdarts and arrows.
Many thanks to: Dmitri Simenov for a Russian lexical item; Adam Elgar and Andrew Frisardi for advice on the English text; Lina Steiner for the encouragement after I foisted this translation on her.
The Original:
Анчар
Древо Яда
Александр Пушкин
Въ пустынѣ чахлой и скупой,
На почве, зноемъ раскаленной,
Анчаръ, какъ грозный часовой.
Стоить, одинъ во всей вселенной.
Природа жаждущихъ степей
Его въ день гнѣва породила
И зелень мертвую ветвей,
И корни ядом напоила.
Ядь каплеть сквозь его кору,
Къ полудню растопясь отъ зною,
И застывает ввечеру
Густой, прозрачною смолою.
Къ нему и птица не летить.
И тигрь неидеть; лишь вихорь черный
На древо смерти набѣжить
И мчится прочь, уже тлетворный.
И если туча оросить,
Блуждая, листь его дремучій,
Сь его вѣтвей ужь ядовить
Стекаеть дождь въ песокъ горючій.
Но человѣка человѣкъ
Послалъ къ Анчару властным взглядом
И тоть послушно въ путь потек,
И к утру возвратился съ ядомъ.
Принесъ онъ смертную смолу,
Да вѣтвь съ увядшими листами
И поть по блѣдному челу
Струился хладными ручьями;
Принесъ и ослабѣлъ, и легь
Под сводомъ шалаша, на лыки,
И умеръ бѣдный рабь у ногъ
Непобедимаго владыки.
А Царь тѣмъ ядомъ напитал.
Свои послушливыя стрѣлы,
И съ ними гибель разослалъ
Къ соседямъ въ чуждые предѣлы
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment