Sevak (translation attempts)

[Nané]

The Toy Maker

 

I could have been everywhere

And I could have shouted -

"I don't want it" or "I want it"

But I have not been everywhere at all

And I am not.

But wherever I am

I tell to myself in my head "Don't say it"

In my head I tell to myself "Don't say it"

And I leave the unsaid to everybody,

So they will observe and explore it later.

And when they realize

What they have observed and explored

I can't not say it any longer

And I will say

--Did you know?

I have decided to become a toy maker

And believe me!!! I'll really become one.

 

… The trees move from the cold autumn wind,

Similar to the way thoughts move in a person’s head,

And from the midday, cloudy skies

Fall down

The cold forms of stars,

Which are called “leaves” in short.

I will mold toys with those cold forms.

And if someone asks me “What does it cost?”

I will tell myself “Don’t say it”

And as an answer to the given question

I will say “Hello~”

I don’t know what he will think of me

But at that same moment I can’t not recall

That there was one girl …

If I tell you that I have forgotten her name

Believe me as much as each one of you believes

In the different newspapers of the world.

And each time I want to

Announce her name to the world

I again tell to myself “Don’t say it”

That girl used to tell me

“When I listen to Beethoven

I feel as if I am walking on a sea”

I also have the precise form of that girl

Her warm form.

And I am going to mold toys with that form,

That warm form.

 

And whoever asks me “What does it cost?”

I will silently tell myself “Say it”

“Nothing really” I will say

“It only costs … one lifetime”

 

And like this I can make anything

It’s for people like me that people say,

“The man has golden hands”

 

And ever time I look at my hands

My hands always tell me “What?”

Which is not a question at all,

But an answer to my silent question:

And every time

I look at my hands

Like an inexperienced archeologist

looks at a newly discovered object.

And I say “Ye~s”

Which is not an answer, but a twisted question.

And my hands shake their head,

And my head waves its hands,

And I realize that I cannot

(And nobody in the world can)

Make only one thing

That only

Which has been named “truth”

That only cannot be made.

Even though for centuries

They are trying to fabricate it

In the name of God,

By the order of rulers,

With a rope,

Which only determines its rigidity

On people’s necks.

With a weapon,

Which on people’s chests

Teaches punctuation.

They make it like this.

For centuries.

They create that, which can’t be created,

Which also cannot be taken apart:

They fabricate it.

Is there something wrong with me?

And its decided,

From now on I am going to make “truth”

And a lot of it.

 

And I am going to sell it,

Sell it everywhere,

Wherever they want it, or don’t want it.

At crossroads,

And in front of shops.

On the sidewalks

And statue stands,

In books,

From podiums.

And when people ask me “What does it cost?”

The one answering will be not me,

But that toy-girl.

And she will say nothing else

But the exact price

“Nothing really” she will say

“It only costs … one lifetime”

 

… And I should become very rich

As a result of these sales,

So rich

That I will buy a concert ticket …

And listen to Beethoven

And I also will feel as if

I am walking on a sea …

And at that time

it will be spring or autumn outside?

Is it not the same? And what is it to me?

Is it not the same and what is it to me?

If the trees are going to move from the wind

Just like thoughts move in a person’s head

And from the midday cloudy or non-cloudy skies

Will fall down or not fall down

Forms of colorful stars

Which are called “leaves” in short …

 

And on my way home

If someone says to me “Hello”

I will answer, “What does it cost?”

If some girls, whose names I don’t even know

Laugh at my answer.

I will answer them with

“I don’t have your forms!!!”

 

And people will gather around me

They always like to question those

Whom they consider crazy.

They will all want to know who I am.

My hands, again, will tell me “Don’t say it”

And I will tell myself “Don’t say it”

But the toy-maker himself,

From my own mouth

Will shout and repeat

“I am selling truth, fabricated truth”

 

P. Sevak

Yerevan

10-24-62

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Letter

 

She's writing to me?

Or am I the one writing to my beloved?

I, myself, don't know ...

"I wonder when, when will I see you?

Winter and summer, autumn and spring ...

But where is our season of the year?

The fifth ...

 

She's writing to me?

Or am I the one writing to my beloved?

I, myself, don't know ...

"Have you noticed? during winter times

Its impossible to pass through those familiar places in the forest,

Through which you have passed during summer days,

Because as they contract from the harsh cold

And bend down miserably under the burdensome snow

The branches and twigs block your way,

And at sunset or twilight -

They scratch your face,

Threaten your eyes:

I was walking in the twilight,

And I was walking absent-mindedly:

Absent-mindedly ... maybe thoughtfully ...

Is it not the same?

And I realized,

When we are nervous -

We hide our poor hands,

When we are unsure -

We hide our poor feet -

And when do people hide their face?

Maybe out of shame?

(I am not ashamed because of my love)

Maybe from longing?

(I want to see you with open eyes):

Maybe from these mischievous, scratching branches?

Maybe from this cold that bends me

And forces me to curl-up miserably

(I want to curl-up under your arms)" ...

 

She's the one ending, or is it me in her place?

I, myself, don't know.

"Don't answer these questions,

But answer just one:

Spring passed - I did not see you,

Summer passed - I did not see you,

Autumn passed - I did not see you,

Winter will pass also - I will not see you ...

But where is our season of the year?

The fifth ...will it never come? ...

 

P. Sevak

11/1963

Yerevan

[Ani]

Letter

 

She's writing to me?

Or am I the one writing to my beloved?

I, myself, don't know ...

"I wonder when, when will I see you?

Winter and summer, autumn and spring ...

But where is our season of the year?

The fifth ...

 

She's writing to me?

Or am I the one writing to my beloved?

I, myself, don't know ...

"Have you noticed? during winter times

Its impossible to pass through those familiar places in the forest,

Through which you have passed during summer days,

Because as they contract from the harsh cold

And bend down miserably under the burdensome snow

The branches and twigs block your way,

And at sunset or twilight -

They scratch your face,

Threaten your eyes:

I was walking in the twilight,

And I was walking absent-mindedly:

Absent-mindedly ... maybe thoughtfully ...

Is it not the same?

And I realized,

When we are nervous -

We hide our poor hands,

When we are unsure -

We hide our poor feet -

And when do people hide their face?

Maybe out of shame?

(I am not ashamed because of my love)

Maybe from longing?

(I want to see you with open eyes):

Maybe from these mischievous, scratching branches?

Maybe from this cold that bends me

And forces me to curl-up miserably

(I want to curl-up under your arms)" ...

 

She's the one ending, or is it me in her place?

I, myself, don't know.

"Don't answer these questions,

But answer just one:

Spring passed - I did not see you,

Summer passed - I did not see you,

Autumn passed - I did not see you,

Winter will pass also - I will not see you ...

But where is our season of the year?

The fifth ...will it never come? ...

 

P. Sevak

11/1963

Yerevan

 

http://myfreeguestbook.com/video/Ja0sD8WwU...evak-namak.html

 

In the book by Hovik Charxchian Axmatova's line "5th time of the year" is mentioned in couple of letters...It is interesting that later Sevak wrote "Namak", which (i think) was inspired by this small poem by Akhmatova...Akhmatova often called love the "fifth time of the year" in her writings...

 

То пятое время года,

Только его славословь.

Дыши последней свободой,

Оттого, что это - любовь.

Высоко небо взлетело,

Легки очертанья вещей,

И уже не празднует тело

Годовщину грусти своей.

 

****

The fifth time of the year,

Only the praise of his.

Breathe with the final freedom,

Because love is this.

The sky has flown up high,

The objects' contours are light,

And the body does not celebrate any longer

The anniversary of its plight.

 

 

[Nané]

http://myfreeguestbook.com/video/Ja0sD8WwU...evak-namak.html

 

In the book by Hovik Charxchian Axmatova's line "5th time of the year" is mentioned in couple of letters...It is interesting that later Sevak wrote "Namak", which (i think) was inspired by this small poem by Akhmatova...Akhmatova often called love the "fifth time of the year" in her writings...

 

То пятое время года,

Только его славословь.

Дыши последней свободой,

Оттого, что это - любовь.

Высоко небо взлетело,

Легки очертанья вещей,

И уже не празднует тело

Годовщину грусти своей.

 

****

The fifth time of the year,

Only the praise of his.

Breathe with the final freedom,

Because love is this.

The sky has flown up high,

The objects' contours are light,

And the body does not celebrate any longer

The anniversary of its plight.

 

Ani jan, this poem was actually an adaptation of a letter Sulamita wrote to Sevak. I have discussed this in detail under another thread which unfortunately I cannot find

[Nané]

Ani jan ... I found the topic.

 

http://hyeforum.com/index.php?showtopic=5268

[Ani]

Ani jan ... I found the topic.

 

http://hyeforum.com/index.php?showtopic=5268

 

Thank You link-i hamar Anet jan...

 

Sxalvel em verevum, uremn Sulamitane artahaytvel Axmatovayi xosqerov: Ughaki Charxchyani grqum es nerqevum nshvac hatvac@ v'or kardaci, hisheci Axmatovayi poem@: Axmatovan asele (dprocic em hishum) v'or ser@ misht kam arjevum e v'orin dzgtum enq, kam ancyalum e v'orin karotum enq (nman mi ban, baraci chem hishum), yev nman e 5rd eghanaki, v'or erbeq chi galis...

 

"Yev orer sharunak na cher bajhanvum ayd tsraric, krum er tuxt@ talismani pes, qarratsal ej@ pahum er ir mot amboghj jhamanak, isk erekoner@ noric u noriic dzerqn er arnum ayn, ver@ntercum er, mtapahum togher@, v'orpeszi heto krkner inqn ir hamar: Arajin hayacqic parz u anpa&uy& mi patmutyun inchu er aydpes gerel nra mitq@, axmatovyan hin, bari eraz@ hingerrord eghanaki masin inchu er tvum bolorovin nor, miayn ayjhm imast u erang stacac haytnutyun:"