Our Age
By Fyodor Tyutchev
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
We've seen our spirit, not our flesh, decay.
Man, in despair, on all his anguish dwells.
Out of the soul's dark night he roils for day
But, reaching daylight, grumbles and rebels.
By unbelief bombarded and sucked dry
He has but the unbearable to bear,
Aware of what awaits all things that die,
He thirsts for faith...but doesn't have a prayer
And cannot say, with tears and shattered pride,
However brutally he comes to grief
Against deadbolted doors: "Let me inside!
Lord, I believe! Help Thou my unbelief!"
The Original:
Нашъ вѣкъ
Тютчевъ
Не плоть, а духъ растлился въ наши дни,
И человѣкъ отчаянно тоскуетъ…
Онъ къ свѣту рвется изъ ночной тѣни
И, свѣтъ обрѣтши, ропщетъ и бунтуетъ.
Безвѣрiемъ палимъ и иссушенъ,
Невыносимое онъ днесь выноситъ…
И сознаётъ свою погибель онъ,
И жаждетъ вѣры… но о ней не проситъ…
Не скажетъ ввѣкъ, съ молитвой и слезой,
Какъ ни скорбитъ передъ замкнутой дверью:
«Впусти меня! — Я вѣрю, Боже мой!
Приди на помощь моему невѣрью!..»
Posts
These poems are just fantastic -- I really really enjoy your selection of incredible, insightful work.
ReplyDeleteEvery page you send is essential reading, and a true education.
Thanks so much.
These are valuable pages.
Dear Mr. A.Z. Foreman,
ReplyDeleteThis is a very good translation. And your recital Russian is good too. Sounds old-fashioned, Tyutchevian enough.
My humble variant for the last line is "Lord, I have faith! Help Thou my unbelief!" because two similar roots in one line are a bit too...
In the original, the words "верю" and "неверью" are in separate, adjacent lines and poetically appropriate, I think.
Yours sincerely,
Dmitry