Walter „Walt” Whitman
Long Island May 31, 1819 – Camden March 26, 1892
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking
Out of the cradle endlessly rocking,
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and
fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as
Out of the mocking-bird's throat, the musical shuttle,
Out of the Ninth-month midnight,
Over the sterile sands and the fields beyond, where the child
leaving his bed wander'd alone, bareheaded, barefoot,
Down from the shower'd halo,
Up from the mystic play of shadows twining and twisting as
if they were alive,
Out from the patches of briers and blackberries,
From the memories of the bird that chanted to me,
From your memories sad brother, from the fitful risings and
fallings I heard,
From under that yellow half-moon late-risen and swollen as
if with tears,
From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in the mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous'd words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such as now they start the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither, ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.
Once Paumanok,
When the lilac-scent was in the air and Fifth-month grass was growing,
Up this seashore in some briers,
Two feather'd guests from Alabama, two together,
And their nest, and four light-green eggs spotted with brown,
And every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand,
And every day the she-bird crouch'd on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,
And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them,
Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.
Shine! shine! shine!
Pour down your warmth, great sun!
While we bask, we two together.
Two together!
Winds blow south, or winds blow north,
Day come white, or niqht come black,
Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all time, minding no time,
While we two keep together.
Till of a sudden,
May-be kill'd, unknown to her mate,
One forenoon the she-bird crouch'd not on the nest,
Nor return'd that afternoon, nor the next,
Nor ever appear'd again.
And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea,
And at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather,
Over the hoarse surging of the sea,
Or flitting from brier to brier by day,
I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird,
The solitary guest from Alabama.
Blow! blow! blow!
Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore;
I wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me.
Yes, when the stars glisten'd,
All night long on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake,
Down almost amid the slapping waves,
Sat the lone singer wonderful causing tears.
He call'd on his mate,
He pour'd forth the meanings which I of all men know.
Yes my brother I know,
The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note,
For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding,
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds
and sights after their sorts,
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listen'd long and long.
Listen'd to keep, to sing, now translating the notes,
Following you my brother.
Soothe! soothe! soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close,
But my love soothes not me, not me.
Low hangs the moon, it rose late,
It is lagging--O I think it is heavy with love, with love.
O madly the sea pushes upon the land,
With love, with love.
O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?
Loud! loud! loud!
Loud I call to you, my love!
Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves,
Surely you must know who is here, is here,
You must know who I am, my love.
Low-hanging moon!
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?
O it is the shape, the shape of my mate!
O moon do not keep her from me any longer.
Land! land! O land!
Whichever way I turn, 0 I think you could give me my mate
back again if you only would,
For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.
O rising stars!
Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.
O throat! 0 trembling throat!
Sound clearer through the atmosphere!
Pierce the woods, the earth,
Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want.
Shake out carols!
Solitary here, the niqht's carols!
Carols of lonesome love! death's carols!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!
O under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless despairing carols.
But soft! sink low!
Soft! let me just murmur,
And do you wait a moment you husky-nois'd sea,
For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me,
So faint, I must be still, be still to listen,
But not altogether still, for then she miqht not come immediately
From those beginning notes of yearning and love there in the mist,
From the thousand responses of my heart never to cease,
From the myriad thence-arous'd words,
From the word stronger and more delicious than any,
From such as now they start the scene revisiting,
As a flock, twittering, rising, or overhead passing,
Borne hither, ere all eludes me, hurriedly,
A man, yet by these tears a little boy again,
Throwing myself on the sand, confronting the waves,
I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing.
Once Paumanok,
When the lilac-scent was in the air and Fifth-month grass was growing,
Up this seashore in some briers,
Two feather'd guests from Alabama, two together,
And their nest, and four light-green eggs spotted with brown,
And every day the he-bird to and fro near at hand,
And every day the she-bird crouch'd on her nest, silent, with bright eyes,
And every day I, a curious boy, never too close, never disturbing them,
Cautiously peering, absorbing, translating.
Shine! shine! shine!
Pour down your warmth, great sun!
While we bask, we two together.
Two together!
Winds blow south, or winds blow north,
Day come white, or niqht come black,
Home, or rivers and mountains from home,
Singing all time, minding no time,
While we two keep together.
Till of a sudden,
May-be kill'd, unknown to her mate,
One forenoon the she-bird crouch'd not on the nest,
Nor return'd that afternoon, nor the next,
Nor ever appear'd again.
And thenceforward all summer in the sound of the sea,
And at night under the full of the moon in calmer weather,
Over the hoarse surging of the sea,
Or flitting from brier to brier by day,
I saw, I heard at intervals the remaining one, the he-bird,
The solitary guest from Alabama.
Blow! blow! blow!
Blow up sea-winds along Paumanok's shore;
I wait and I wait till you blow my mate to me.
Yes, when the stars glisten'd,
All night long on the prong of a moss-scallop'd stake,
Down almost amid the slapping waves,
Sat the lone singer wonderful causing tears.
He call'd on his mate,
He pour'd forth the meanings which I of all men know.
Yes my brother I know,
The rest might not, but I have treasur'd every note,
For more than once dimly down to the beach gliding,
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with the shadows,
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the sounds
and sights after their sorts,
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listen'd long and long.
Listen'd to keep, to sing, now translating the notes,
Following you my brother.
Soothe! soothe! soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind embracing and lapping, every one close,
But my love soothes not me, not me.
Low hangs the moon, it rose late,
It is lagging--O I think it is heavy with love, with love.
O madly the sea pushes upon the land,
With love, with love.
O night! do I not see my love fluttering out among the breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the white?
Loud! loud! loud!
Loud I call to you, my love!
Hiqh and clear I shoot my voice over the waves,
Surely you must know who is here, is here,
You must know who I am, my love.
Low-hanging moon!
What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow?
O it is the shape, the shape of my mate!
O moon do not keep her from me any longer.
Land! land! O land!
Whichever way I turn, 0 I think you could give me my mate
back again if you only would,
For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way I look.
O rising stars!
Perhaps the one I want so much will rise, will rise with some of you.
O throat! 0 trembling throat!
Sound clearer through the atmosphere!
Pierce the woods, the earth,
Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I want.
Shake out carols!
Solitary here, the niqht's carols!
Carols of lonesome love! death's carols!
Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon!
O under that moon where she droops almost down into the sea!
O reckless despairing carols.
But soft! sink low!
Soft! let me just murmur,
And do you wait a moment you husky-nois'd sea,
For somewhere I believe I heard my mate responding to me,
So faint, I must be still, be still to listen,
But not altogether still, for then she miqht not come immediately
to me.
Hither my love!
Here I am! here!
With this just-sustain'd note I announce myself to you,
This gentle call is for you my love, for you.
Do not be decoy'd elsewhere,
That is the whistle of the wind, it is not my voice,
That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray,
Those are the shadows of leaves.
O darkness!0 in vain!
O I am very sick and sorrowful.
O brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea!
O troubled reflection in the sea!
O throat! O throbbing heart!
And I singing uselessly, uselessly all the niqht.
O past! O happy life! O songs of joy!
In the air, in the woods, over fields,
Loved! loved! loved! loved! loved!
But my mate no more, no more with me!
We two together no more.
The aria sinking,
All else continuing, the stars shining,
The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuous echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok's shore gray and rustling,
The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping,
the face of the sea almost touching,
The boy ecstatic, with his bare feet the waves, with his hair
the atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last
tumultuously bursting,
The aria's meaning, the ears, the soul, swiftly depositing,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there, the trio, each uttering,
The undertone, the savage old mother incessantly crying,
To the boy's soul's questions sullenly timing, some drown'd
secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard.
Demon or bird! (said the boy's soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it really to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping, now I
have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for, I awake,
And already a thousand singers, a thousand songs, clearer,
louder and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, never to die.
O you singer solitary, singing by yourself, projecting me,
O solitary me listening, never more shall I cease perpetuating you,
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before
what there in the night,
By the sea under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous'd, the fire, the sweet hell within,
The unknown want, the destiny of me.
O give me the clew! (it lurks in the night here somewhere,)
O if I am to have so much, let me have more!
A word then, (for I will conquer it,)
The word final, superior to all,
Subtle, sent up--what is it?--I listen;
Are you whispering it, and have been all the time, you sea-waves?
Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands?
Whereto answering, the sea,
Delaying not, hurrying not,
Whisper'd me through the night, and very plainly before daybreak,
Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word death,
And again death, death, death, death,
Hissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous'd child's heart,
But edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet,
Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,
Death, death, death, death, death.
Which I do not forget,
But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother,
That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach,
With the thousand responsive songs at random,
My own songs awaked from that hour,
And with them the key, the word up from the waves,
The word of the sweetest song and all songs,
That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,
(Or like some old crone rocking the cradle, swathed in sweet
garments, bending aside,)
The sea whisper'd me.
Hither my love!
Here I am! here!
With this just-sustain'd note I announce myself to you,
This gentle call is for you my love, for you.
Do not be decoy'd elsewhere,
That is the whistle of the wind, it is not my voice,
That is the fluttering, the fluttering of the spray,
Those are the shadows of leaves.
O darkness!
O I am very sick and sorrowful.
O brown halo in the sky near the moon, drooping upon the sea!
O troubled reflection in the sea!
O throat! O throbbing heart!
And I singing uselessly, uselessly all the niqht.
O past! O happy life! O songs of joy!
In the air, in the woods, over fields,
Loved! loved! loved! loved! loved!
But my mate no more, no more with me!
We two together no more.
The aria sinking,
All else continuing, the stars shining,
The winds blowing, the notes of the bird continuous echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok's shore gray and rustling,
The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping,
the face of the sea almost touching,
The boy ecstatic, with his bare feet the waves, with his hair
the atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last
tumultuously bursting,
The aria's meaning, the ears, the soul, swiftly depositing,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there, the trio, each uttering,
The undertone, the savage old mother incessantly crying,
To the boy's soul's questions sullenly timing, some drown'd
secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard.
Demon or bird! (said the boy's soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it really to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping, now I
have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for, I awake,
And already a thousand singers, a thousand songs, clearer,
louder and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me, never to die.
O you singer solitary, singing by yourself, projecting me,
O solitary me listening, never more shall I cease perpetuating you,
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before
what there in the night,
By the sea under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous'd, the fire, the sweet hell within,
The unknown want, the destiny of me.
O give me the clew! (it lurks in the night here somewhere,)
O if I am to have so much, let me have more!
A word then, (for I will conquer it,)
The word final, superior to all,
Subtle, sent up--what is it?--I listen;
Are you whispering it, and have been all the time, you sea-waves?
Is that it from your liquid rims and wet sands?
Whereto answering, the sea,
Delaying not, hurrying not,
Whisper'd me through the night, and very plainly before daybreak,
Lisp'd to me the low and delicious word death,
And again death, death, death, death,
Hissing melodious, neither like the bird nor like my arous'd child's heart,
But edging near as privately for me rustling at my feet,
Creeping thence steadily up to my ears and laving me softly all over,
Death, death, death, death, death.
Which I do not forget,
But fuse the song of my dusky demon and brother,
That he sang to me in the moonlight on Paumanok's gray beach,
With the thousand responsive songs at random,
My own songs awaked from that hour,
And with them the key, the word up from the waves,
The word of the sweetest song and all songs,
That strong and delicious word which, creeping to my feet,
(Or like some old crone rocking the cradle, swathed in sweet
garments, bending aside,)
The sea whisper'd me.
A bölcső végtelen rengéséből
A bölcső végtelen rengéséből,
a szajkó torkából, zenei csattogás,
a kilencedik hónap éjfeléből,
meddő fövény és rajta túl a puszta felett, hol a gyermek,
elhagyva ágyát, egyedül bolyongott, sapkátlan, meztélláb,
le az özönlő holdudvartól,
fel az egymásba-fonódó, elevennek látszó árnyak titokzatos játékától,
el a vadrózsa és földiszeder bozótjaitól,
a madár emlékéről, aki énekelt nekem,
emlékedről, szomorú testvér, ismerem örömed és siralmad,
a sárga félhold alatt történt, mely későn kelt, és szinte könnyekkel duzzadt,
sóvárgás és szerelem fakadó jeleiről a ködben,
szivemnek szüntelen ezer válaszáról,
onnan ébredt miriád szóról,
s ama szóról, mely mindnél erősebb s kedvesebb
s mindarról, ami útnak indul, az eltűntet újra keresni,
mint madárraj, csicsereg, emelkedik, magasban elvonul,
hozzám sereglik, s tőlem elszáll, hamar tova-illan,
e könnyektől megint gyermek a férfi,
homokra vetem magam, szemközt a habokkal,
én dalosa kínnak, kéjnek, összefonója most-nak és majd-nak,
tőlem telhető minden módon, de hamar túlszökve valahányon:
énekkel emlékezem.
Egyszer Paumanokban
orgonaillat szállt a légben, és az ötödik hónap füve sarjadt,
s a tengerparton, rózsabokorban
két szárnyas vendég ült, Alabama küldöttei, együtt ketten,
fészkükben négy barnapettyes halaványzöld tojás,
mindennap a hím madár őrködve ide-oda röppent a közelben,
mindennap az anyamadár fészkén kuporgott csöndben fénylő szemmel,
mindennap én, a kiváncsi fiú, sose túlközel, sose tolakodva,
óvatosan kukucskáltam, figyeltem, elmélyedtem.
Süss! süss! süss!
Áraszd le heved, óriás Nap!
Hadd sütkérezzünk együtt ketten.
Együtt ketten!
Szél kel délről vagy északról,
Nap ragyog, vagy éj sötétül,
itt, vagy távoli folyók, hegyek közt,
dalolunk folyton, az idő hadd folyjon,
segítjük egymást együtt ketten.
És hirtelen
megölhették, nem tudja párja,
egy reggel az anyamadár nem kuporgott a fészken,
nem szállt vissza délben, sem az éjben,
nem tért vissza többé.
Akkor nyáron a tenger dörgésében
és éjjel a hold teljében, tiszta időben
a tenger rekedt dörgése fölött,
vagy cikázva rózsatövek között,
láttam, hallottam az elárvult hím madarat,
magányos küldöttedet, Alabama.
Zúgj! zúgj! zúgj!
Zúgj, tengeri szél Paumanok partján,
várok, várok, míg párom elhozod.
Éjjel a csillag-villogásban
moha-csipkés cölöpön gunnyadt
csaknem a csapkodó hullámok közt,
és dalolt, hogy a szív megolvadt.
Párját hívta,
vágyát ontotta, csak én értettem.
Tastvérem, értettem,
más senki, de én minden hangod összegyűjtöttem,
nem is egyszer, lopakodtam, az öbölig csúsztam,
csöndben, a holdfényt kerülve, árnnyal álcázva magam,
a homályos alakot s a visszhangot újra meg újra idézve,
hang és látomás mennyiféle,
hullámverés fehér karjai csapkodtak fáradatlan,
én, meztéllábas gyermek, szélben lobogó hajjal,
figyeltem soká-soká.
Figyeltem, hogy megjegyezzem, énekeljem
s most, értvén a hangokat, testvér, nyomdokodba lépek.
Jer! jer! jer!
Habot simogat, rásimulva szorosan, a hab
s kel a másik mögötte, átkarolva becézi,
de az én szeretőm nem símogat, nem.
Mélyen csüng a hold, a későn kelő,
tán szerelemtől lankad a szive, a szive.
Vadul tör a tenger a partra, odavonja
a szive, a szive.
Ó, éj! Látom-e párom röppenni az árból?
Mi ül ott, az a kis fekete jószág a fehérben?
Mondd! mondd! mondd!
Élesen rikoltok feléd, egyetlenem!
Fenn, tisztán röpítem a hangom a habok felett,
te tudod, ki van itt, ki van itt,
kinek a szive, a szive.
Mélyre csüggő hold!
Ködfoltot görget barnássárga korongod.
A párom, a párom alakja!
Ó, hold, ne fogd őt távol tőlem.
Föld! föld! ó, föld!
Bármerre fordulok, te visszadhatnád párom, ha akarnád,
érzem, tudom, bármerre nézek, homályosan mindig őt látom.
Ó, kelő csillagok!
Akire vágyom, tán fölragyog, fölragyog valamelyitekkel.
Ó csőr! ó, remegő csőr!
Zengj harsányabban a légen át!
Fúrd át a vadont, a földet,
valahol figyelj, hogy elkapja hangom az egyetlen, akit kivánok.
Áradjatok, ti dalok!
Magányosan, ti éji dalok!
Magányosan szerelmi dalok! halál-dalok!
A csüggő, sárga, lehajló hold alatt,
dalok a hanyatló hold alatt, mely majdnem a tengerbe borul,
ó, végtelenül reménytelen dalok.
De csitt! fülelj!
Csitt! csak susogni hagyj,
csitulj egy pillanatra, goromba-hangú tenger,
mert valahol, hallom, felelget a szerelmem,
oly gyengén, hogy csak csöndben, csöndben hallhatom,
de mégse teljes csöndben, mert nem találna rá szerelmem.
Itt vagyok, itt!
Szállj ide, szállj!
Egy hosszú-hosszú sóvárgó hang hullámzik feléd,
egy hívó hang feléd, ó, én szerelmem, feléd.
Ne csaljon semmise másfele,
most ez a szél füttye, nem enyém,
ez a tajték suhogása,
ez a lombok susogása.
Ó, homály! ó, hiába!
Sorvadozva rogyok magamba.
Rőt udvar a hold körül, a tengerre csöppen!
Tört remegés a víztükörben!
Ó, csőr! ó, verdeső szív!
Dalolok, hiába, hiába, az éjen át.
Ó, múlt boldog élet! ó, örömdalok!
A légben, az erdőn, a réten, csattogva:
együtt! együtt! együtt! együtt! együtt!
Párom nincs többé, nincs soha többé,
nem vagyunk már együtt ketten.
Az ária elhal,
minden más tovább él, csillagok égnek,
szél fúj, madárhang visszaverődik,
hangosan nyög a mord anya, vén keble szüntelenül nyög,
Paumanok parti homokja szürke, suhogó,
a sárga félhold megduzzad, ereszkedik, lehorgad, majdnem
érinti a tenger arcát,
a fiú révületben, pőre lábával a hab, fürtjével a szél játszadozik,
a szeretet, sokáig a szívbe börtönözve, most szabadul, végre
szilajon kitör,
a fül és a lélek megérti, megőrzi az éneket,
ismeretlen könnyek kergetőznek az arcon,
és összefonódik a beszélgetés, a hármas ének,
a mély szólam, a vén, mord anya lassú nyögése,
a fiú lelkének kérdéseihez ridegen simul, titkot sziszeg
a leendő énekesnek.
Démon vagy madár! (mondá a fiú lelke)
párodnak énekelsz, igazán? vagy nékem?
Mert én, aki gyermek voltam, dalom még szunnyadt, most hallottalak,
és hirtelen megértem, mivégre vagyok, fölserkenek,
és ezer dalos máris, ezer dal, tisztább, harsányabb és szomorúbb
mint a tiéd,
ezer csattogó visszhang kelt örök életre bennem.
Ó, te magányos énekes, magadnak énekelve formáltál engem,
magányos hallgatód, hogy folytassalak,
sose feledjelek, sose a visszhangokat,
sose hagyjon el a sóvár szerelem,
sose lehessek gondtalan gyermek, mint az éj előtt,
a tengerparton, a sárga, lecsüggő hold alatt,
a hírhozó jött, a tűz, az édes pokol belül,
az ismeretlen vágy, a végzetem.
Ó, add a fonalat! (itt lesz az éjben)
ha ily sok jut nekem, adj még többet!
Ama szót (mert legyőzni kivánom)
a végső szót, valamennyi fölöttit,
mely titkon előtör – mi az? – fülelek;
ti susogjátok minden időn át, tengerhabok?
Folyékony széleitek s a nedves homok?
Felelt a tenger,
sem késve, sem sietve,
susogott felém az éjen át és még tisztábban hajnal előtt,
súgta nekem a halk és kéjes szót: halál,
meg újra: halál, halál, halál, halál,
sziszegve-dalolva, nem mint a madár, nem mint fölrebbent gyermeki
szivem,
de felém nyomulva, mintha csak hozzám szólna, lábamnál sustorogva,
folyton kígyózva, fülemig kúszva, lágyan beborítva:
halál, halál, halál, halál, halál.
Nem feledem,
összeolvasztom sötét démon-tastvérem énekét,
melyet holdfényben, Paumanok szürke öblében énekelt,
az ezernyi rokon-dallal,
önnön dalaimmal, melyek ébredtek ez óra óta,
s a habokból elém sodort kulccsal, a szóval,
a legédesebb dal és minden dal szavával,
a hatalmas, csodálatos szóval, melyet lábamhoz fekve
(vagy mint öregasszony, bölcsőt ringatva, csecsemőt pólyázva illatos
ruhába, zümmögve-hajolva)
a tenger suttogott.
Fordította: Weöres Sándor
Iz kolevke što se beskonačno ljulja
Iz kolevke što se beskonačno ljulja,
Iz grla kosa, muzikalnog čunka,
Iz ponoći Devetog meseca,
Nad jalovim peskom i nad poljima dalje, gde je dete koje napušta
postelju lutalo samo, gologlavo, bosonogo,
Sa visina pokislog nimbusa,
Iz dubina mistične igre senki što se prepliću i svijaju kao da su žive,
Iz krpica grmlja vresa i kupine,
Iz sećanja ptice koja mi je pojala,
Iz tvojih sećanja tužni brate, iz nestalnih uzleta i padova koje sam čuo,
Ispod tvog žutog poznog polumeseca nabubrelog kao od suza,
Iz tih početnih zvukova žudnje i ljubavi tamo u magli,
Iz hiljade odziva nepresušnih moga srca,
Iz bezbroj odonud potaknutih reči,
Iz reči koja od svih je najsnažnija i najslađa,
Iz svega toga što evo počinje sada na pozorje da se vraća,
Kao jato što cvrkuće, uzdiže se il nad glavom proleće
Rodom ovamošnji, pre no što sve mi ne izmakne, užurbano,
Čovek, ali po suzama ovim dečak maleni ponovo,
Bacajući se na pesak, oči u oči s talasima,
Ja, pojac bolova i radosti, ujedinitelj ovoga sa onim posle,
Shvatajući znak da sve to upotrebim, ali hitro se vinuvši nad sve to,
Uspomenu jednu pevam.
Nekada Paumanok,
Kada je miris jorgovana bio u vazduhu i trava Petog meseca je rasla,
I gore uz ovu obalu morsku u nekom grmu vresa,
Dva pernata gosta iz Alabame, dvoje zajedno,
I njihovo gnezdo, i četiri setlozelena jaja sa smeđim mrljama,
I svakoga dana mužjak tamo i amo uvek u blizini,
I svakoga dana ženka leži na gnezdu, tiha, sjajnih očiju,
I svakoga dana ja, radoznali dečak, nikada suviše blizu, nikada da
ih smetam,
Oprezno virim, upijam, prevodim.
Sijaj! Sijaj! Sijaj
Sipaj toplotu svoju, veliko sunce!
Dok sunčamo se, nas dvoje zajedno.
Dvoje zajedno!
Duvajte vetrovi južni, il duvajte vetrovi severni,
Dan da se beli ili noć da se crni,
U zavičaju, ili mnogo reka i gora za zavičajem,
Sve vreme pevajući, ne mareći za sve vreme
Dok smo nas dvoje zajedno.
Sve dok iznenada,
Ubijena možda, neznano drugu njenom,
Prepodne jedno ženka nije legla na gnezdo,
Niti se vratila to popodne, niti sledeće,
Niti se ikada pojavila opet.
I od tada celog leta u zvuku mora,
I noću pod punim mesecom u mirnije vreme,
Iznad podmuklog talasanja mora
Il u dnevnom lepršanju od vresa da vresa,
Gledao sam, slušao povremeno preostalu pticu, mužjaka,
Samotnoga gosta iz Alabame.
Duvajte! Duvajte! Duvajte!
Razvihorite se vetrovi morski duž obale Paumanoka;
Čekam i čekam dok mi drugaricu ne vratite.
Da, dok su blistale zvezde,
Čitavu noć je na kraku mahovinom obraslog stuba,
Dole, skoro sred pljuskanja talasa
Sedeo samotni pevač čudesno mameći suze.
Zazivao je drugaricu svoju,
Lio značenja koja ja, od svih ljudi, znam,
Da, brate moj, znam,
Ostali možda ne, no ja sam svaki zvuk sačuvao,
Jer često sam tamo uz žal se šuljao,
Tiho, zrake meseca obilazeći, sa senkama se stapajući,
A prisećam se sada nejasnih oblika, odjeka, zvukova i uzdaha po
vrsti i redu,
Belih ruku dole u talasima na žalu što vitlaju neumorno,
Kada sam bosonogo dete, s lepetom vetra u kosi,
Slušao dugo, dugo.
Slušao da sačuvam, pevam, a sada prevodim zvuke
Sledim tebe, mog brata.
Stišaj! Stišaj! Stišaj!
Val iza vala val stišava blizak,
Pa opet za njim drugi grli i pljuska, svi bliski,
No ljubav moja ne stišava mene, ne mene.
Nisko mesec visi, digao se kasno,
Zaostaje – o, mislim da težak je od ljubavi, ljubavi.
O, mahnito nadire more na kopno
S ljubavlju, ljubavlju.
O noći! Ne vidim li to ljubav kako mi leprša među talasima?
Šta je to malo i crno što vidim tamo u belini?
Glasno! Glasno! Glasno!
Glasno te zazivam, ljubavi moja!
Visoko i jasno odapinjem glas preko talasa,
Ti znaš svakako ko je, ko je tu,
Moraš znati ko sam, ljubavi moja.
Meseče niski!
Kakva je to tamna mrlja na tvom žutilu mrkom?
O to je oblik, oblik drugarice moje!
O meseče nemoj dalje da mi je zadržavaš.
Zemljo! Zemljo! O Zemljo!
Gde god se okrenem pomislim, o mogla bi da mi drugaricu vratiš
samo da hoćeš,
Jer skoro da siguran sam da mutno je vidim kud god gledam.
O zvezde na izlasku!
Možda će ona koju toliko volim da izađe, izađe s vama.
O grlo! O drhtavo grlo!
Zazvuči jasnije vazduhom!
Prodri kroz šume, kroz zemlju,
Ona koju želim zacelo negde sluša, da ulovi te.
Sipaj slavopojke!
Samotno tu, slavopojke noćii!
Slavopojke samotne ljubavi! Slavopojke smrti!
Slavopojke pod tim tromim žutim krnjim mesecom!
O, pod tim mesecom gde je skoro u more klonuo!
O, bezobzirne, očajne slavopojke.
Al tiho! Spusti se nisko!
Tiho! Da mrmori samo,
A ti pričekaj za tren, ti more promuklo zvučno,
Jer mi se čini da negde čujem odziv drugarice moje,
Tako slabo, tiho moram, tiho da slušam,
Al ne sasvim tiho, jer onda možda neće odmah mi doći.
Amo, ljubavi moja!
Ovde sam, ovde!
Zvukom ovim tačno suzdržanim odjavljujem se tebi,
Ovaj nežni zov za tebe, ljubavi moja, za tebe.
Nemoj da te nešto drugamo odmami,
To je zvižduk vetra, nije to moj glas,
To samo vihori, vihori pena morska,
To su senke lišća.
O tmino! O uzalud!
O, vrlo sam bolan i jadovan.
O, smeđi oreol na nebu, oko meseca što klone u more!
O, uskomešani odrazi u moru!
O grlo! O zatreptalo srce!
A ja uzalud, uzalud pevam cele noći.
O prošlosti! O srećni živote! O pesme radosti!
U vazduhu, u šumama, nad poljima,
Voljen! Voljen! Voljen! Voljen! Voljen!
Al nema mi drugarice više, nema je sa mnom više!
Nas dvoje nismo zajedno više!
Arija tone,
Dok se sve drugo nastavlja, zvezde sijaju,
Vetrovi duvaju, zvuci ptice neprekidno odjekuju,
Srditim ječanjem jarosna stara majka neprestano ječi,
Na pesku sive obale Paumanoka, i šušti i praska,
Žuti polumesec uvećan, naginje se, klonuo, skoro da lice mora
dodiruje,
Dečak u zanosu, stopalima bosim talase, kosom vazduh miluje,
Ljubav u srcu dugo zatvorena sada slobodna, sada provaljuje burno,
Značenje arije uši, duša hitro sleže,
Čudne suze niz obraze brzaju,
Taj razgovor tamo, utroje, gde svako svoje izriče,
U podzvuku divlja stara majka koja neprestano jeca,
Duši dečakovoj sumorno pitanja otkucava, tajnu neku
Utopljenu sikće pesniku na prvom koraku.
Demone ili ptico! (reče duša dečakova)
Da li zaista drugarici svojoj pevaš? Ili, u stvari, meni?
Jer ja, koji bejah dete, jezika usnula, ja sam te sada čuo,
Sada u magnovenju znam zašto jesam, ja budan,
I već je evo hiljadu pevača, hiljadu pesama, jasnijih, glasnijih i
žalosnijih nego što je tvoja,
Hiljadu je odjeka raspevanih počelo u meni živeti, da nikada
ne umre.
O, ti pevaču usamljeni, što pevaš sam, a mene zasnivaš,
O, usamljenog mene koji slušam, nikada neću prestati da tebe
vekovečim,
Nikada više umaknuti neću, nikada više odjecima,
Nikada više krici ljubavi nezadovoljene neće izvan mene biti,
Nikada mi više dozvoliti da ono spokojno dete budem, koje
bejah pre svega što je tamo,
Pokraj mora ispod žutog i klonulog meseca
Glasnik tamo raspirio, oganj, slatki pakao iznutra,
Neznanu žudnju, sudbinu moju.
O, daj mi ključ! (on vreba ovde negde u noći)
O, kako mi je toliko namenjeno, daj mi i više još!
Reč jednu, znači (jer ja ću osvojiti je)
Reč konačnu, vrhovnu, nad svim drugim,
Tananu, vinutu – šta je? – slušam;
Da li vi je šapćete, i uvek jeste, talasi morski?
Je li to kažu vaši tačni rubovi i pesak mokri?
A na to u odgovor more,
Bez oklevanja, bez žurbe,
Prošapta mi kroz noć, i vrlo jasno, pre zore,
Propušta mi tihu i slatku reč smrt,
Pa opet smrt, smrt, smrt, smrt, smrt,
Sikćući melodiozno, ni kao ptica, ni kao srce moje dečje
probuđeno,
Već rubom bliskim kao da meni samo do nogu žubori,
Puzeći uporno do ušiju mojih, oplakujući me blago,
Smrt, smrt, smrt, smrt, smrt.
A ja to ne zaboravljam,
Nego stapam pesmu mog tamnog demona i brata,
Koju mi pevaše na mesečini na sivom žalu Paumanoka,
Sa hiljadu slučajnih pesama u skladu,
Mojih pesama od toga časa probuđenih,
A sa njima ključ, reč iz talasa,
Reč najslađe pesme i pesama sviju,
Tu snažnu i divnu reč što je, do nogu mi puzeći,
(Ili kao neka starica koja kolevku ljulja, u ljupke haljine
omotana, u prikrajku sagnuta)
More prošaptalo meni.
Prevod: Ivan V. Lalić
