Diana Anphimiadi
HOW TO TAME DEATH
Forget dogs, cats, birds,
especially fishes,
the vile Minotaur, remember him from the myth,
that Theseus slayed.
I'll show you a fluffier animal
that I've been taming for a long time
and don't leave alone for a minute.
I've accompanied it since we met at midday.
When did I see it for the first time?
Do I remember?
I know the exact moment,
summer, midday,
a small hill in the forest,
we're kissing each other with closed eyes.
I open my eyes
I'm looking into your closed eyes
and that's the second when death clings to me
and I can't erase it from this poem.
I left as usual, said goodbye to you, hugged you
kissed your temples
came home
turned the key.
If it had sneaked in
it would be more understandable.
I could have thrown it out.
Instead, I picked it up in my arms,
brought it in carefully,
offered it the dog's cushion,
an armchair,
and at once it occupied
the medicine cabinet.
I've no idea how to take care of it,
what to feed it so that it won't die,
where I can find a guide book,
how many poems I should read it,
how many evil fairy tales.
'Sleep' I tell it
'I am tired, sleep'.
I cover its wide open eyes
with my hands,
it rejected the dog's basket
and the child's bed too,
it crawled under my blanket,
clung to me, it licks my knees,
eats rice boiled without salt,
drinks only cold milk
(my tears are too salty, it rejects them).
Occasionally at night
it rocks the moon near my bed
then howls from the balcony,
summons other deaths
like itself. It took all the iron from my blood
and planted goliath-sized quantities of it
in the Field of Mars cemetery.
When I leave the house
I'm eager to get back to it,
what can I do, I got used to it,
I can't bear to be without it for long.
Nothing else, it doesn't need a vet or vaccine
or walking. It doesn't want to get used to where it is or move.
Occasionally it scratches or bites me slightly.
And then what?
Nothing special,
never mind,
in my opinion
I will survive.
HOE TEM JE DE DOOD
Vergeet honden, katten, vogels,
En vooral vissen,
Herinner je je nog de vreselijke Minotaurus uit de mythologie,
Die Theseus heeft geveld?
Ik vertel jou liever
Over een pluiziger dier,
Dat ik al een tijdje probeer te temmen,
En geen minuut alleen laat.
Sinds we elkaar op een middag ontmoetten, wijk ik niet van zijn zijde,
Wanneer heb ik het voor het eerst gezien?
Weet ik dat nog?
Zeker, dat weet ik nog precies,
Op een zomermiddag,
Op een lage heuvel in het bos,
Terwijl we elkaar kussen
Met gesloten ogen.
Ik open mijn ogen
En ik kijk in je gesloten ogen,
Dat is het moment dat de Dood me te pakken krijgt,
En ik hem niet meer uit dit gedicht kan schrappen.
Ik vertrok zoals gebruikelijk,
Zei gedag, omhelsde je nog eens goed,
Kuste je op je wangen,
Ik ben thuisgekomen,
Draaide de sleutel in het slot.
Was hij het huis binnengedrongen,
Dan was het allemaal makkelijker te vatten.
Dan zou ik hem eruit kunnen gooien,
Maar ik nam hem in mijn armen,
Droeg hem voorzichtig mee naar binnen,
Wees hem het kussen van de hond toe
En de bank.
Hij palmde in een paar tellen
De medicijnkast in.
Ik heb geen idee hoe ik ervoor moet zorgen,
Wat hij moet eten zodat hij niet doodgaat.
Waar een handleiding te vinden is,
Hoeveel gedichten ik ervoor moet voordragen,
Hoeveel boze sprookjes,
‘Slaap’, zeg ik,
‘Ik ben moe, slaap,’
Ik bedek zijn opengesperde ogen
Met de palm van mijn hand.
Hij weigerde de hondenmand,
En ook het kinderbed,
Hij kroop onder mijn deken,
Klampte zich aan me vast, likte aan mijn knieën,
Hij eet ongezouten gekookte rijst,
Drinkt enkel koude melk,
(Mijn tranen zijn te zout, hij weigert ze)
’s Nachts naast mijn bed
Reikt hij soms naar de maan,
En jankt zacht vanaf het balkon,
Hij roept
Zijn soortgenoten op.
Hij trekt alle ijzer uit mijn bloed,
En strooit het als Goliatten over het Marsveld,
Als ik weg ben,
Verlang ik ernaar hem terug te zien,
Wat gedaan, ik heb me eraan gehecht,
Ik kan er niet lang zonder,
Hij heeft niets nodig, geen dierenarts, geen vaccinaties,
Uitlaten? Je hoeft het niets aan te leren en ook niet af te leren.
Soms krabt of bijt hij me lichtjes,
Maar wat dan nog
Niets,
Het is helemaal niet erg,
Volgens mij
Blijf ik in leven.
როგორ მოვიშინაუროთ სიკვდილი
შეეშვი ძაღლებს, კატებს, ჩიტებს
მით უფრო, თევზებს,
ის საშინელი მინოტავრი, გახსოვს მითიდან,
სიკვდილის გზას რომ გაუყენა თეზევსმა?
მე შენ გასწავლი მასზე უფრო
ფუმფულა ცხოველს,
დიდი ხანია, მოვიჩვიე,
წუთით არ ვტოვებ.
ჩვენი შეხვედრის შუადღიდან წამოვიყოლე.
პირველად როდის ვნახე?
მახსოვს?
რა თქმა უნდა, ზუსტად ვიცი,
ზაფხულის შუადღე,
პატარა ბექობი ტყეში,
თვალდახუჭულები
ვკოცნაობთ.
ვიხილები
დახუჭულ თვალებში გიყურებ,
ზუსტად იმ წამიდან ამეკიდა
და ამ ლექსიდანაც ვერ ვშლი.
ჩვეულებისამებრ წამოვედი,
დაგემშვიდობე, ჩაგეხუტე,
საფეთქელი დაგიკოცნე,
სახლში მივედი,
გადავატრიალე გასაღები.
შემოპარულიყო,
იქნებოდა უფრო გასაგები,
ხომ არ გავაგდებდი?
არადა, ხელში ავიყვანე,
შემოვიყვანე ფრთხილად,
დავუთმე ძაღლის ბალიში
და სავარძელი
სასწრაფოდ დაიკავა
წამლების კარადა.
არ ვიცი, როგორ მოვუარო,
რა ვაჭამო, რომ არ მოკვდეს,
სად ვნახო გზამკვლევი,
რამდენი ლექსი წავიკითხო,
რამდენი ბოროტი ზღაპარი,
„დაიძინე“- ვეუბნები,
„დავიღალე, დაიძინე“,
ვეუბნები,
დაჭყეტილ თვალებზე
ხელისგულებს ვაფარებ.
ძაღლის კალათაც დაიწუნა,
ბავშვის საწოლიც,
საბანქვეშ შემომიძვრა,
მომეკრა, მილოკავს მუხლებს,
ჭამს უმარილოდ მოხარშულ ბრინჯს,
სვამს მხოლოდ ცივ რძეს,
(ჩემი ცრემლები ემლაშება, იწუნებს)
ხანდახან, ღამღამობით
საწოლთან მთვარეს მირწევს
და მერე აივნიდან ყმუის,
თავისნაირ
სიკვდილებს უხმობს.
ჩემი სისხლიდან გამოიტანა მთელი რკინა
გოლიათებად დათესა მარსის ველზე,
შინიდან გამოსულს,
ერთი სული მაქვს, მასთან როდის მივალ,
რა ვქნა, შევეჩვიე,
უმისოდ დიდხანს ვერ ვძლებ.
მეტი არაფერი, ვეტერინარი მაგას არ უნდა და აცრა,
გასეირნება? არც მიჩვევა უნდა, არც გადაჩვევა,
ზოგჯერ შეიძლება გამკაწროს და კბილიც გამკრას.
მერე რა?
არც რა,
არა უშავს,
ჩემი აზრით,
გადავრჩები.
_w336.jpg)
HOW TO TAME DEATH
Forget dogs, cats, birds,
especially fishes,
the vile Minotaur, remember him from the myth,
that Theseus slayed.
I'll show you a fluffier animal
that I've been taming for a long time
and don't leave alone for a minute.
I've accompanied it since we met at midday.
When did I see it for the first time?
Do I remember?
I know the exact moment,
summer, midday,
a small hill in the forest,
we're kissing each other with closed eyes.
I open my eyes
I'm looking into your closed eyes
and that's the second when death clings to me
and I can't erase it from this poem.
I left as usual, said goodbye to you, hugged you
kissed your temples
came home
turned the key.
If it had sneaked in
it would be more understandable.
I could have thrown it out.
Instead, I picked it up in my arms,
brought it in carefully,
offered it the dog's cushion,
an armchair,
and at once it occupied
the medicine cabinet.
I've no idea how to take care of it,
what to feed it so that it won't die,
where I can find a guide book,
how many poems I should read it,
how many evil fairy tales.
'Sleep' I tell it
'I am tired, sleep'.
I cover its wide open eyes
with my hands,
it rejected the dog's basket
and the child's bed too,
it crawled under my blanket,
clung to me, it licks my knees,
eats rice boiled without salt,
drinks only cold milk
(my tears are too salty, it rejects them).
Occasionally at night
it rocks the moon near my bed
then howls from the balcony,
summons other deaths
like itself. It took all the iron from my blood
and planted goliath-sized quantities of it
in the Field of Mars cemetery.
When I leave the house
I'm eager to get back to it,
what can I do, I got used to it,
I can't bear to be without it for long.
Nothing else, it doesn't need a vet or vaccine
or walking. It doesn't want to get used to where it is or move.
Occasionally it scratches or bites me slightly.
And then what?
Nothing special,
never mind,
in my opinion
I will survive.
HOW TO TAME DEATH
Forget dogs, cats, birds,
especially fishes,
the vile Minotaur, remember him from the myth,
that Theseus slayed.
I'll show you a fluffier animal
that I've been taming for a long time
and don't leave alone for a minute.
I've accompanied it since we met at midday.
When did I see it for the first time?
Do I remember?
I know the exact moment,
summer, midday,
a small hill in the forest,
we're kissing each other with closed eyes.
I open my eyes
I'm looking into your closed eyes
and that's the second when death clings to me
and I can't erase it from this poem.
I left as usual, said goodbye to you, hugged you
kissed your temples
came home
turned the key.
If it had sneaked in
it would be more understandable.
I could have thrown it out.
Instead, I picked it up in my arms,
brought it in carefully,
offered it the dog's cushion,
an armchair,
and at once it occupied
the medicine cabinet.
I've no idea how to take care of it,
what to feed it so that it won't die,
where I can find a guide book,
how many poems I should read it,
how many evil fairy tales.
'Sleep' I tell it
'I am tired, sleep'.
I cover its wide open eyes
with my hands,
it rejected the dog's basket
and the child's bed too,
it crawled under my blanket,
clung to me, it licks my knees,
eats rice boiled without salt,
drinks only cold milk
(my tears are too salty, it rejects them).
Occasionally at night
it rocks the moon near my bed
then howls from the balcony,
summons other deaths
like itself. It took all the iron from my blood
and planted goliath-sized quantities of it
in the Field of Mars cemetery.
When I leave the house
I'm eager to get back to it,
what can I do, I got used to it,
I can't bear to be without it for long.
Nothing else, it doesn't need a vet or vaccine
or walking. It doesn't want to get used to where it is or move.
Occasionally it scratches or bites me slightly.
And then what?
Nothing special,
never mind,
in my opinion
I will survive.
Sponsors
