William Butler Yeats Byzantium – Byzantium – Vizantija

William Butler Yeats

Dublin, June 13, 1865 – Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, Jan. 28, 1939

Byzantium The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, The fury and the mire of human veins. Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade; For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miraclc than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud In glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood. At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve. Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood. The golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

Byzantium Hátrál a nap tisztátlan képe mind; ágyban a császár ittas népe mind. Hátrálnak éji zaj, korhely dalok, hogy a nagy harang elkongatott. Egy csillagfényes, holdsütötte dóm lenéz mindent, ami bonyolult-emberi, vér mocsarát, dühét utálkozón. Elém egy rém lebeg, ember, vagy árny, ember inkább s nem árny, rém, mintsem árny; Hades múmia-pólyájú orsaja csavart útját legöngyölheti ma. Csak lehellettelen halotti száj hívhat ily társat itt. Hívom a földöntulit: Jöjj, halálban-élet s életben-halál! Csoda, madár, vagy vert-arany remek, inkább csoda, mint szárnyas, vagy remek. Csillagfényes arany boltív csucsán Hades kakasait példázza tán, vagy gúnyol hangosan, mint kit a hold bánt mert érc-dicsőség megmarad, mulandó szirmot, madarat, mocsárnak, vérnek minden bonyodalmát. Láng lebben a császár kőpadlatán, nem rőzsegyujtó s vascsiholta láng: vihar se fogja: láng lángot terem, hová vér-nemzett lelkek soka jön túl minden zagyva emberi dühön, belehalván a táncba, haldokló, buja tránszba, mely megperzselni egy csipkét is képtelen. Delfin vér-mocskos hátán nyargalász szellem szellem után! Az árt töri a rács, a császár vert-arany szép rácsai! A táncos folyosó márványai megtörik a bonyolultság dühét, e rémeket, melyek újakat nemzenek, s a tenger delfin-tépte, tajtékzó vizét.                              Fordította: Jékely Zoltán

Byzantium The unpurged images of day recede; The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed; Night resonance recedes, night walkers' song After great cathedral gong; A starlit or a moonlit dome disdains All that man is, All mere complexities, The fury and the mire of human veins. Before me floats an image, man or shade, Shade more than man, more image than a shade; For Hades' bobbin bound in mummy-cloth May unwind the winding path; A mouth that has no moisture and no breath Breathless mouths may summon; I hail the superhuman; I call it death-in-life and life-in-death. Miracle, bird or golden handiwork, More miraclc than bird or handiwork, Planted on the star-lit golden bough, Can like the cocks of Hades crow, Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud In glory of changeless metal Common bird or petal And all complexities of mire or blood. At midnight on the Emperor's pavement flit Flames that no faggot feeds, nor steel has lit, Nor storm disturbs, flames begotten of flame, Where blood-begotten spirits come And all complexities of fury leave, Dying into a dance, An agony of trance, An agony of flame that cannot singe a sleeve. Astraddle on the dolphin's mire and blood, Spirit after Spirit! The smithies break the flood. The golden smithies of the Emperor! Marbles of the dancing floor Break bitter furies of complexity, Those images that yet Fresh images beget, That dolphin-torn, that gong-tormented sea.

Vizantija Uzmiču žiteljski mutne slike dana; Polegali Carevi pijani vojnici; Uzmiču noćni zvuci: pesma noćnika Posle klepala velike katedrale. Kupola od zvezda il meseca sjajna, prezire Sve što je čovek: Zapetljanstva tašta, Besove i glib u prirodi čoveka. Preda mnom lebdi slika, čovek ili senka; Pre senka no čovek, pre slika no senka; Jer kalem u Paklu kaišem mumije stegnut Može odmotati stazu izvijuganu; Usta bez glave i bez daha Mogu razbuditi usta što ne dišu; Pozdravljam natčovečno; Zovem to smrt-u-životu i život-u-smrti. Čudo, ptica ili samo rukotvor zlatan, Pre čudo no rukotvor il ptica, Na zlatnoj grani svetloj od zvezde Može ko petli u Paklu da kriči, Il ljuta zbog meseca, glasno da ruži, U slavi od metala svog postojanoga, Običnu pticu il cvetnu laticu, I sva zapetljanstva od blata i krvi. O ponoći, po Carskom pločaniku promiču Vatre, ni gorivom hranjene, ni čelikom paljene, Ni vihorom gašene, vatre od vatra rođene, Gde od krvi rođeni dusi dolaze I sva zapetljanstva od besova odlaze, U plesu, premiranje, U ekstazi, umiranje, Umiranje vatre što ništa opaliti ne može. Na leđima delfina od blata i krvi, Duši, duši! Tu plimu kovnice prekidaju, Kovnice zlata Careve! Mramor po podu za igranje Smiruje besove zapetljanstva, Slike one što već Rađaju slike nove, Delfinima kidano, klepalom trzano more. Prevod: Isidora Sekulić



William Butler Yeats Leda and the Swan – Léda és a hattyú – Leda i labud

William Butler Yeats

Dublin, June 13, 1865 – Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, Jan. 28, 1939

Leda and the Swan A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.  How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? And how can body, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Léda és a hattyú Egy gyors ütés! A roppant szárnycsapás, a rémült lány combját cirógató hártyás fekete láb – nyakába vás a csőr: nyílt mellén tollak, mint a hó. E tollas test malasztját kis keze mint űzze oldódó combjaitól? E fehér forgatagban érez-e mást, mint hogy a roppant szív hol dobol? Egy lágyékborzongás okozta vert falak omlását, tornyokét, tetőkét, s Agamemnon halálát. Győztesen ha már az ég nyers vére szállta meg, erőt s tudást kapott-e, mielőtt még a csőr elejtette közömbösen?                              Fordította: Görgey Gábor

Leda and the Swan A sudden blow: the great wings beating still Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill, He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.  How can those terrified vague fingers push The feathered glory from her loosening thighs? And how can body, laid in that white rush, But feel the strange heart beating where it lies? A shudder in the loins engenders there The broken wall, the burning roof and tower And Agamemnon dead. Being so caught up, So mastered by the brute blood of the air, Did she put on his knowledge with his power Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?

Leda i labud Iznenadan nalet: još biju velika krila puna žudi Nad devojkom što posrće, bedra joj miluju Tamne opnice kandži, zatiljak zarobljen u kljunu, Na svoja prsa on pritiska njene bespomoćne grudi. Kako mogu da odgurnu ti uplašeni, neodlučni prsti  Pernatu slavu s opuštenih bedara? I telom Zar može da ne oseti pod navalom belom Udare neobičnog srca kako su u ležištu čvrsti. Onda u bokovima nastane trzaj koji Izrodi probijen zid, plamen gusti na krovu i na kuli; Agamemnona mrtvog. Savladana kad je bila Zverskom krvlju vazduha, da li je mogla da spoji Njegovo znanje sa njegovom snagom pre no što je pusti Ravnodušni kljun, da klone i padne niz krila? Prevod: Miodrag Pavlović



William Butler Yeats Sailing To Byzantium – Hajózás Byzantiumba – Jedrenje u Vizantiju

William Butler Yeats

Dublin, June 13, 1865 – Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, Jan. 28, 1939

Sailing To Byzantium That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees ---Those dying generations---at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Hajózás Byzantiumba Vénnek nem jó e táj. Az ifjak itt egymás nyakán, a fán a madarak – halandó népség – zengik dalaik, lazacos zúgók, ángolnás tavak, hal, vad nyárvégtiben dicsérgetik, mi csak tenyész, él-hal a nap alatt, buja zsongásba hullva megvetik az időtlen szellem remekeit. Egy éhes ember szánandó dolog, boton rongyos kabát csupán, hacsak nem esd a lélek, énekel s zokog halottasingben is rongyainak, – nem dal-iskola ez, hanem konok buvárlata önnön csodáinak, ezért hajóztam tengereken át, látni Byzantium szent városát. Kik Isten szent tüzében állotok, bölcsek, a fal arany mozaikár, a szent tűzből peregve szálljatok, lelkem énekmestert ugyan kiván! Szívjátok fel szívem; vágyban sajog, s halandó testhez kötve mostohán, nem ért ahhoz; vigyétek hát ti be a halhatatlanság remekibe! Lelkem többé, levetvén testemet, semmi természeti formát nem ölt; de milyet görög aranymívesek keze zománc-aranyból remekelt, ébren tartván álmos császár-szemet, vagy dall, ha egy aranyboltívre ült, Bizánc urainak s úrnőinek arról, mi volt, mi van, s mi még lehet.                              Fordította: Jékely Zoltán

Sailing To Byzantium That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees ---Those dying generations---at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. O sages standing in God's holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Jedrenje u Vizantiju Nije ovo zemlja za starce. Mladi Jedno drugom u zagrljaju, na drveću ptice – Taj rod na umoru – sa svojim pesmama, Lososov slap, skušom bogata mora – Riba, čovek, ptica, celog leta slave Sve što je stvoreno, rođeno i što mre. Pa zaneti čulnom svirkom previde Spomenike uma koji ne stari. Ostareo čovek je tričava stvar, Ritav kaput na štapu, sem ako Duša ne zapljeska i ne zapoje, sve glasnije Za svaku ritu smrtne haljine, Al nema ni škole pevanja, postoji samo Izučavanje spomenika sopstvene veličine. Stoga preplovih mora da dođem Do svetoga grada Vizantije. O mudraci u božjem svetom plamu Ko u zlatnom mozaiku na zidu. Dođite iz svetog plama, izvite se u spirali, Budite učitelji pesme mojoj duši. Razorite mi srce; željom bolno, I za zver na umoru vezano, Ono ne zna šta je; vodite me Nekuda u lukavstvo večnosti. Kad jednom van prirode budem, ja neću Uzeti telesni oblik nijedne prirodne stvari, Već onakav oblik kakav zlatari grčki Od kovanog zlata i zlatnog emalja prave Da njima dremljivog cara održe budnim; Ili ću sesti na zlatnu granu da pevam Gospodi i damama Vizantije, O onom što je bilo, što biva il što će doći. Prevod: Milica Mihajlović



William Butler Yeats A deep-sworn vow – Mert megmásoltad szavaid – Zaveta nisi se držala

William Butler Yeats

Dublin, June 13, 1865 – Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, Jan. 28, 1939

A Deep-Sworn Vow Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face.

Mert megmásoltad szavaid Mert megmásoltad szavaid, most másokkal barátkozom; de ha a halál arcát figyelem, ha járom az álom csúcsait, vagy a bor meghozza mámorom: arcod ötlik fel hirtelen. Fordította: Tellér Gyula

A Deep-Sworn Vow Others because you did not keep That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine; Yet always when I look death in the face, When I clamber to the heights of sleep, Or when I grow excited with wine, Suddenly I meet your face.

Zaveta nisi se držala Jer dubokog zaveta nisi se držala Sad s drugima se družim; Ipak kad lice smrti promatram, Kad sam na visinama sna Ili uzbuđeno uz vino ludim, Iznenada tvoje lice ugledam. Prevod: Fehér Illés