**** (‘თვალის გახელა უკვე…’) **** (‘Opening an eye…’)

**** (‘თვალის გახელა უკვე…’)

თვალის გახელა უკვე მხოლოდ იმის ნიშანია, 
რომ მზადა მაქვს ძარღვები ლიანდაგებად. 
და ბეჭების შემცივნულ ბაქანზე 
ხერხემლის წყვეტილ და გამაფრთხილებელ ზოლს იქით დგანან 
მოსაგვარებელი ამბები. 
ამის მერე 
ახალი დღეც ისე გრიალით შემოდის ტანში, 
როგორც მობერებული, ძვლებამოყრილი მატარებელი 
მორიგ სადგურში 
და ეს დაფეთებული გაღვიძება 
ყველაფერს ერთმანეთზე ახეთქებს: 
როგორ არიან, ვინც მიყვარს, 
ამინდმა ქალაქის ფერები როგორ გადააწყო, 
ხომ ყველა სახლში დაბრუნდნენ ისინი, 
ვისაც მთელი ღამე ელოდნენ 
და მათაც ხომ შეძლეს გაღვიძება, ვისაც არავინ ეძებს, 
ხომ ყველა თონე გახურდა 
და ყველა პურის ცომი ამოფუვდა, 
ხომ ისევ მზადა მაქვს გული, 
რომ გავიყვანო კიდევ ერთ ახალ დღეში, 
როგორც მძინარე ახალშობილი - 
თვალუწვდენელი სამჭედლოს ზრიალში და ვხვდები: 
ან ზედმიწევნით ზუსტად უნდა იცოდე 
როგორ მოყვე საჩვენებელი სიცოცხლის ზურგსუკანა ამბები, 
ან ზედმიწევნით ზუსტად უნდა იცოდე
როგორ გაჩუმდე.
 

**** (‘Opening an eye…’)

Opening an eye is already just the sign
my veins are readied to become rails 
And the things to be dealt with
stand beyond the hazard-warning line of the spine 
on the platform of cold shoulder blades.
After that
the new day also rattles loudly into the body 
like an ageing skeletal train      
arriving at the next station  
and this panicky wakening   
makes all of these collide:
how they are, those who I love,
how the weather has shifted the colours of the city, 
surely everyone has returned home
those who were waited for all night long 
and also those who no one looks for 
surely they also managed to wake up
surely all the bread ovens have heated up
and all the dough has risen
surely I have my heart ready again 
to carry through one more new day
like a sleeping new-born baby 
into the distant din of the blacksmiths and I grasp
that you either must know precisely    
how to recount what lies behind the model life stories 
or you must know precisely 
how to keep quiet.
 

The translation of Maia Sarishvili’s poem ‘Opening an Eye…’ was broken into two consecutive sessions. In the first, the translator Natalia Bukia-Peters introduced the poet and gave the participants some context to Sarishvili’s poetics. Bukia-Peters also spoke about certain characteristics of the Georgian language, explaining for instance that it is the most widely-spoken of the Kartvelian languages and that it serves as the lingua franca for speakers of related languages. Then we looked at the first thirteen lines of the poem, taking into account some of the poet’s main visual images, including railway-related words (rails, stations, platforms, etc) and parts of the body (eyes, veins, spine, shoulder blades). We spent some time discussing the line from the guide translation ‘standing beyond the broken warning line of the spine’, looking at options for ‘broken warning line’ and then settling on ‘hazard-warning line’ after debating on specific street markings terms. We also had an interesting discussion around the line ‘how the weather has rearranged the colours’. The session benefited hugely from having some Georgian speakers in the ‘room’, who in this case suggested words like ‘changed’ and ‘shifted’ as being closer to the original. Finally we decided on ‘shifted’. The remaining fourteen lines were looked at in the second session. We decided to respect the poet’s intention of using repeated words (surely, again, all, precisely) to create a sense of musicality and rhythm. There was an interesting discussion around the term ‘bread stoves’, and again, the Georgian native speakers, gave us an insight into specific ovens used in Georgia to bake bread. Some were in favour of leaving the word in Georgian (p’uris ghumeli), others preferred the simpler ‘bread ovens’. We finally settled for the latter option, as we concluded it wasn’t a culturally specific word and that it would be better understood in English. We spent some time discussing the line ‘how to tell the life exemplary behind back stories’ and opted for ‘how to recount what lies behind the model life stories’ after some animated debate (in Georgian and English). We managed to finish the translation on time, and the participants were happy with the final result, as we managed to keep the poet’s voice and maintain her wonderful metaphors and unconventional imagery.

Leo Boix, Workshop Facilitator

**** (‘To open the eyes…’)

To open the eyes is already only the sign
that my veins are ready as rails (n.b.that I have my veins ready to be rails).
And the things which should be arranged
are standing beyond the broken warning line of the spine(vertebra)
on the platform of cold shoulder blades.
After that
the new day also enters the body with such a deafening roar,
like an elderly train with shovelled out bones
to the next station
and this panicky wakening
 collides (crashes) everything together (n.b to each other):
how those are I love,
how the weather has rearranged the colours,
surely all those returned home
those who have been waited for the whole night
and surely (after all) those also managed to wake up those who are not looked for by anybody,  
surely all the bread stoves warmed up
and has the all-bread dough raised,
surely, I have my heart ready again
to carry it again to the new day,
like a sleeping new-born baby –
into the faraway clamour of smithy and I understand (realize, guess, grasp): 
either you should know exactly
how to tell the life exemplary behind back stories(events), 
or you should know exactly (thoroughly, extremely well) 
how to keep quiet. (be quiet, to get quiet)
 

Original Poem by

Maia Sarishvili

Translated by

Natalia Bukia-Peters with The Poetry Translation Workshop Language

Georgian

Country

Georgia