Alive not by bread alone,
I dip a crust of sky,
in the morning chill,
in the stream flowing by.
by Варлам Тихонович Шаламов (Varlam Tikhonovich Shalamov)
(1955)
translated by Robert Chandler
Alive not by bread alone,
I dip a crust of sky,
in the morning chill,
in the stream flowing by.
by Варлам Тихонович Шаламов (Varlam Tikhonovich Shalamov)
(1955)
translated by Robert Chandler
March saw winter gain in strength –
bitter cold and unrelenting storms.
In reckless fury, blinding spite,
the wind blew only from the north.
No hint of spring. Gripped by inertia,
the heart slips all too close to places
of no return: no self, no words,
mere apathy and voicelessness.
Who can bring back our sight, our hearing?
Who can retrace the way to hearth
and home now that all trace of home
is gone, wiped from the earth?
by Мария Сергеевна Петровых (Maria Sergeyevna Petrovykh)
(1955)
translated by Robert Chandler and Irina Mashinski
the final line could be considered a sceptical response to Khrushchev’s Thaw during the, relatively, liberal period after Stalin’s death.
Also it is quite timely considering the current UK weather where ‘the Beast for the East’ and Storm Emma are double teaming the British Isles.
Who said to the trout,
You shall die on Good Friday
To be food for a man
And his pretty lady?
It was I, said God,
Who formed the roses
In the delicate flesh
And the tooth that bruises.
by R. S. Thomas
from Song at the Year’s Turning (1955)
All in vain. I will cease now
My long absorption with the plough,
With the tame and the wild creatures
and man united with the earth.
I have failed after many seasons
In the mind’s precincts do not apply.
But where to turn? Earth endures
After the passing, necessary shame
Of winter, and the old lie
Of green places beckons me still
From the new world, ugly and evil,
That men pry for in truth’s name.
by R. S. Thomas
from Song at the Year’s Turning (1955)
All in vain. I will cease now
My long absorption with the plough,
With the tame and the wild creatures
And man united with the earth.
I have failed after many seasons
To bring truth to birth,
And nature’s simple equations
In the mind’s precincts do not apply.
But where to turn? Earth endures
After the passing, necessary shame
Of winter, and the old lie
Of green places beckons me still
From the new world, ugly and evil,
That men pry for in truth’s name.
by R. S. Thomas
from Song At The Year’s Turning (1955)