Гүл менен Көбелек... Flower and Butterfly…

Гүл менен Көбелек...

*** Гүл менен Көбелек – 
Сергек өлеңге классикалық, 
символикалық әсем нұсқа. 
Әрі керемет, 
Әрі қысқа. 
Мыңжылдық мағына, 
Бір сәттік өлең. 
Оларға тағы да, 
Тағы да келем. 
Айтар сәт баянды, 
Дәл бүгін емес. 
...Санамда оянды, 
Әлдебір елес: 
...Ешкімді күтпеген, 
Ештеңе сұрамаған, 
Өзгеден, 
Әсіресе олардан 
(Гүл менен Көбелектен) 
Басталып кетіп белгісіздеу бір нүктеден, 
Беймәлім нүктеде кенеттен жоғалған, 
Жалығыс пен көнбістік жіптеріне ілінген, 
Ескі, 
Тым ескі 
Әдемі таңданыс пен әнтек жымиыстың көнерген 
Суреттері бар еді, әлдебір тұсы бүлінген, 
Бүлінген тұсын қартайған шебермен 
Бірге желімдеп, жаңартқан кезде 
Суретке тырс етіп көз жасым тамды... 
Ең ауыр сөз де 
Дәл бұлай ауыртпас жанды!.. 
Ол көктемнің суреті еді кешіккен, 
Ол сүйіктімнің суреті еді гүл терген! 
...Азан дауысы естілді мешіттен, 
Қоңырау дауысы естілді шіркеуден. 
Ал мен... үнсіз қалдым!..
 

Flower and Butterfly…

*** Flower and Butterfly
Classical, symbolic, graceful stencil 
for a poem that knows it’s a poem
as short
as it is beautiful, 
fleeting lines,
enclosing aeons.
I will return to them
again and again.
I shall reveal my story
but perhaps not exactly today.
…A phantom
awoke in my mind.
… Who waits for no-one,
asks nothing
Of anyone,
especially them
(Flower and Butterfly).
Setting off from a semi-secret spot
and vanishing somewhere unknown,
a thread of dullness and duty pegged
with old photos,
too old, 
of gorgeous surprise and timid smiles,
cracked at their corners.
When I and the master restorer
glued and mended the photo,
a teardrop fell…
Even the most brutal words
wouldn’t punch so hard!...
A photo of a belated spring,
a photo of my beloved picking flowers.
… Adhan is heard from the mosque-side,
Bells are heard from the church-side
But I… remain without voice!...
 

It was a pleasure to work with the Poetry Translation Workshop and Assiya to help translate Yerlan Junis’ dreamy, surreal, reflective poem of lost love. Before we began, Assiya introduced Yerlan Junis to us as one of the most talented young poets of his generation, a postmodernist widely praised for the freshness and elegance of his verse, his exquisite use of the Kazakh language and his willingness to embrace complexity and contradiction. .

Working with Assiya’s bridge translation and her guidance, we strove to echo a little of the original music of the poem. Assiya advised us that the Kazakh language is agglutinative and its poetry full of complex beautiful rhymes, something almost impossible to recreate in English, so we sought opportunities to draw out alliteration and assonance, creating some musicality. For example, one small pleasing swap was stencil for model; and later dullness and duty took the place of boredom and submission.

There was a knotty section in the middle (from “Having started…” to “…their corners”) where the poet delightfully drives the poem off the road into surrealist territory. We spent a long time discussing and unpicking this long complex sentence, trying to draw out the subject and rejigging the lines slightly to bring the subject (the photographs) more clearly to the fore. We finally settled on: “Setting off from a semi-secret spot/ and vanishing somewhere unknown,/a thread of dullness and duty pegged/with old photos…”

From this point on, the poem moves to such a beautiful and melancholy place, reflected simply and elegantly in Assiya’s bridge translation, that we changed very little.

Liz Berry, workshop facilitator

Flower and Butterfly...

*** Flower and Butterfly –
Classical, symbolic model 
for a self-aware poem
[It is] as short 
as it is beautiful,
Millennial content,
Momentary verse.
I will return to them
Again and again.
Not exactly today
Shall I reveal [my] story.
…Some fantom 
Woke up in my mind.
…[It] waits for no one,
Asks for nothing,
From others,
Particularly from them 
(from Flower and Butterfly).
Having started in an undisclosed location,
[And] lost in an unknown spot,
Clinging to the threads of boredom and submission,
There were 
Old,
Too old photos of 
Beautiful surprise and gentle smile,
Cracked from their corners.
When I, along with the master,
Glued in and restored the photo,
A teardrop fell…
Even the most brutal words
Would not hit that hard!...
It was a photo of a belated spring,
It was a photo of my loved one picking the flowers.
…Adhan is heard from the mosque-side,
Bells are heard from the church-side.
But I… remain voiceless!...
 

Original Poem by

Yerlan Junis

Translated by

Assiya Issemberdiyeva with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Kazakh

Country

Kazakhstan