Only Gary Light would write a Russian poem that begins by paraphrasing from a Bob Dylan song, and then uses the word "poetry" in English as a loanword two lines later to rhyme with
pó-vetru "in the wind."
Born in Kiev in 1967 to a Jewish family, Gary Light came to the US at the age of 13. He attended Northwestern University, and received a law degree from Chicago-Kent College of Law. He is one of a number of American poets (
Gabriel Preil, whom I've also translated, is another) who grew up quite at home in the US and in English, but elected to lead their life of linguistic creativity in another language. He has translated Russian poetry into English, but has expressed dissatisfaction with how his own English poetry turns out. As he himself puts it
in this interview:
"I suppose I don't feel like a "Russian writer" in the narrow classic sense of that term, though the majority of my....initial literary 'baggage' comes from the Russian tradition. I'm probably an American author after all. But if I were to be absolutely precise, then I'd say I'm nearer to a symbiosis of cultural heritage in literature, a kind — if you will — of "cosmopolitanism" like that of authors such like Arthur Philips, Vasili Aksenov, Andre Codrescu, Leonard Cohen, Vladimir Nabokov, Umberto Ecco, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Carlos Ruiz Safon..."
Ðаверное, Ñ Ð²Ñе же не ощущаю ÑÐµÐ±Ñ Â«Ñ€ÑƒÑÑким пиÑателем» в узком клаÑÑичеÑком значении Ñтого определениÑ, Ñ…Ð¾Ñ‚Ñ Ð±Ð¾Ð»ÑŒÑˆÐ¸Ð½Ñтво моего....изначального литературного багажа – из традиций руÑÑкой литературы. Ðаверное, Ñкорее, вÑе таки, Ñ Ð°Ð¼ÐµÑ€Ð¸ÐºÐ°Ð½Ñкий автор. Ðо еÑли уже ÑовÑем точно, то мне ближе Ñимбиоз культурных наÑледий в литературе, Ñвоего рода, еÑли угодно, «коÑмополитизм» таких авторов как Ðртур ФиллипÑ, ВаÑилий ÐкÑенов, Ðндре КодреÑку, Леонард КоÑн, Владимир Ðабоков, Умберто Ðко, ГабриÑль ГарÑÐ¸Ñ ÐœÐ°Ñ€ÐºÐµÑ, ÐšÐ°Ñ€Ð»Ð¾Ñ Ð ÑƒÐ¸Ñ Ð¡Ð°Ñ„Ð¾Ð½.
Key West Blues By Gary Light
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Russian
Time was she and I would come here together.We were in our twenties. No words like "never"had rung for us...bed-and-verse existence...We lived on Paris and awful whiskey. Green apples and other such comforts we had weremore than enough for our love and laughter.We didn't even know when the raysof dusk and dawn set the dew ablaze. Clothing and food seemed a burden. Together...Lips along bare skin whispered "forever." And the rest?...The end is cliché. I'll stop here,But that in our lives was the fiery yearwhen the wall went tottering in Berlin,and that bed of Marathon — water through the window,like the fish in Key Largo, from the depths of our shoal.It's not that we're mourning for that today. No,that we did not become man and wife...isn't it. (All that has long been thrown to sh...)But that we became just like the rest, together,forgive us Key West, and forget us forever. The Original:
Key West Blues
Гари Лайт
Когда-то мы Ñ Ð½ÐµÐ¹ приходили Ñюда
нам было по двадцать, Ñлова «никогда»,
Ð´Ð»Ñ Ð½Ð°Ñ Ð½Ðµ звучали... ПоÑтель и Ñтихи,
мы жили Парижем и виÑки плохим.
Ðам Ñблок зеленых и прочих утех,
хватало Ñ Ð»Ð¸Ñ…Ð²Ð¾Ð¹ на любовь и на Ñмех.
Мы даже не знали в котором чаÑу
закат и раÑÑвет зажигают роÑу.
Обузой казалиÑÑŒ одежда, еда
и губы по коже шептали – «вÑегда»...
Про дальше – нет ÑмыÑла, банален иÑход
но в жизни у Ð½Ð°Ñ Ð±Ñ‹Ð» тот пламенный год,
когда зашаталаÑÑŒ в Берлине Ñтена,
поÑтель в Марафоне – вода из окна,
как рыба в Ки-Ларго – из Ñамых глубин,
не то, что б ÑÐµÐ³Ð¾Ð´Ð½Ñ Ð¾Ð± Ñтом Ñкорбим.
СовÑем не о том, что не муж и жена,
вÑе Ñто давно уже поÑлано на...
РпроÑто, что Ñтали такими как вÑе,
проÑти Ð½Ð°Ñ ÐšÐ¸-ВеÑÑ‚, и забудь наÑовÑем
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