A SPRING WITH MAYAKOVSKY

I

Grim and hungry both, we often talked together 
In an old suburban attic – remember? – just we two, 
While beneath the hill the Neris flowed forever 
Bearing off a lot that puzzled me and you.

Life was at our throats; behind the window Autumn 
Kept its midnight vigil, wakeful, open-eyed. 
To the wind's soft sobbing in the bare wet treetops 
Our young hearts, aflutter, somewhere seemed to fly.

Through the windy town they seemed to roam together 
By the Neris, through the streets of our old town, 
Where still greater sorrows could be found, like elm-trees 
Over every cottage their branches hanging down.

II

Down the Neris Spring flowed off one shady evening. 
We read Mayakovsky, astonished by his force. 
He made clear to both that life is worth a struggle; 
No need to become a living, worthless corpse.

"In this life of ours to die is pretty easy;
To build a life worth living is a much harder thing..."

And the river broke up the winter, sad and grizzly, 
And our hearts were flooded by swift-watered Spring.
Silent, without words we stood and looked straight forward
And each other's hands we held and firmly squeezed.
Mighty crowds that spring-day marched with steady footsteps,
From their age-old yoke for good at last released.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg


SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

In Spring there sometimes happen such bad nights 
When you can't sleep, however much you try. 
Your heart begins to beat more anxiously, 
While somewhere far the cranes begin to cry.

And quietly you welcome their return 
And watch their flight among the stars far out. 
P'raps it's not cranes, but youth for which you yearn? 
Meanwhile, the earth lies trembling, birchbuds sprout.

And suddenly the warm breath of the spring 
In heavy waves comes surging through your heart. 
You close your eyes and, happy, not a thing 
On earth you hear but earthly life's new start.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg


THE OLD SCHOONER

		for Zanis Gryva

Old schooner, 
Let me stay with you a while, 
You, whom the waves would fling, 
And tempests sink, 
Whom heat would scorch, 
Whom cold tempered like steel.
You heave with the low waves 
Near the embankment.

You've long turned grey, old man,
A lot you've found and lost,
And there is nowhere any more for you to hurry...
And in your sails
All patched from end to end
There's so much sunshine, salt and wind
And bitter anguish,
And memories of birds
And breezes wafted from far countries...

Let's stay together just a little more 
Because I know 
That only in your masts 
The sea-wind's breath is so intoxicating 
And only on your deck 
Tar smells so sharply.

And maybe the young ships whose engines now 
Hammer and hum there in the harbour, 
After they set off, won't even remember 
That these blue roads 
Your sires and grandsires, you yourself 
Had once discovered. 
But never mind, 
And don't you be upset –  
Such is the privilege of youth.

And your sails keep on flapping like old banners 
After the many battles they have seen. 
In them 
Hides History: discoveries, far voyages. 
Only in them 
The sea-wind rustles so.

Let's stay together just a little more...

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg


SLEEP – GO TO SLEEP!

Like floodwaters,
Dreams float above the city.
Sleep – go to sleep you, too.
Yet somebody keeps calling you
By name
From far-off pier and jetty...

But it recedes, that voice, and dies,
Away it goes,
And strange, transparent depths
Unfold before your eyes,
And sounds and colours and sensations softer grow.
And then appears the soundless essence of existence,
Just for an instant, maybe, and one listens
And then forgets again
To live on in anxiety and pain.
Dreams come and go,
Yes, they will come and yet they never die again.
Bright visions full of light, death they defy.

Translated by Dorian Rottenberg


AUTUMN SUN

In this secluded place 
Amid the hills and lakes 
This morning I await 
Not letters, news or guests... 
I like a pagan wait here for the sun 
And bowing down to it 
I crave 
Its autumn warmth 
Which as a last reward 
I wish to save and leave 
To trees and window-panes, 
To winter crops and to your heart 
When winter comes, 
When early snows conceal the paths 
And these few 
Yellow maple leaves... 
I hold them in my hand 
Like crumbs of sunshine... 
I await the sun.

Translated by Lionginas Pažūsis


EARTHLY SILENCE

A sultry afternoon in June... 
A curious calmness slowly 
       soothes your pulse, 
Concern and longing. 
Strange as it is, 
You suddenly discover 
That at this moment in the world 
You two are left alone –  
The earth and you. 
In all the world only you two –  
The earth and you... 
Oh, what a blessing it is then 
       to plunge into the grass,
Leaving your guesses 
And all thoughts behind, 
With outstretched arms 
To gaze at azure heaven 
And with your glance 
       embrace its mute sublimity, 
And in this earthly silence 
Find rebirth...

Translated by Lionginas Pažūsis

Born into the family of a dispensing chemist in Uryupinsk, Russia. Eugenijus Matuzevičius attended secondary school in Biržai and from 1939 to 1943 studied Lithuanian philology at the universities of Kaunas and Vilnius. After graduation he taught at schools in Joniškis and Panevėžys. Also he worked for a publishing house as an editor. From 1954 to 1959 Matuzevičius was poetry consultant at the official Union of Lithuanian Writers. His verse was first published in 1933. An integral perception of the world, a romantic view of the boundless distance, an intimate tone and classical verse form mark his poetry.