bakho (bakho) wrote,
bakho
bakho

A poem

Here's a poem I translated a year ago for an online RPG I was playing. The game was set in the Dune universe (Frank Herbert's Dune...if you haven't heard of it, you should first Google it, then read it because the novels are a masterpiece), and I wanted that particular poem to be inscribed on the headstone of my House leader's deceased wife. The poem was composed by a famous Croatian poet, Antun Gustav Matoš, and translated by me.

After some research, I found out that Matoš was never translated from Croatian to any other tongue. Somehow, that made me sad, because his poems are some of the best I have ever read in my life. The sad thing about writers/poets hailing from small countries as is mine, and writing in rather obscure languages as Croatian is, is the fact they won't achieve the proper 'fame' they should achieve because of their fantastic style. For example, imagine Poe had written in Croatian? Who would have ever heard of Poe? Not many people would, and not many people would be able to enjoy in the images he brought to life by his lyrics. The same thing is with Matoš...if only he had written in a language more accessible to the world, he would be cherished by millions for the genius he was. On the other hand, if he had written in English, would his lyrics be so good?

Here's the poem:

The Consolation of Your Hair

I gazed at you last night. You dreamt. With sadness. Dead.

In the fatal hall, in the idyll of flowers.
On the high catafalque, in the agony of candles.
Ready to surrender my life as a sacrifice.
 

I didn't cry. I didn't. Dazzled I stood there
In the fatal hall, full of magnificent death.
Wondering if the dark eyes were clear
From whom a better life for me once shined.

Everything, really everything is dead. Eyes, breath and hands.
Everything I wanted to animate with despair
In my blind dread and in passion of suffering,

In the fatal hall, with gray remembrance.
Only your hair was still alive,
And it said: Stay still! For dreaming, death is.


***

Evo jedne pjesme koju sam preveo prije godinu dana za jedan online RPG koji sam igrao. Igra je bila smještena u sviejtu Dine (Dine Franka Herberta....ako nikada niste čuli za Dinu, prvo ju zagooglajte. zatim pročitajte romane jer su vrhunski), a ja sam htio da baš ta pjesma bude urezana u nadgrobni spomenik preminule žene vojvode moje Kuće. Pjesmu je napisao poznati hrvatski pjesnik, Antun Gustav Matoš, a ja sam ju preveo.

Nakon malo istraživanja, saznao sam da Matoša nikada nisu prevodili sa hrvatskog na bilo koji drugi jezik. To me na neki način rastužilo, zato što su njegove pjesme jedne od najboljih koje sam pročitao u životu. Tužna stvar vezana uz pisce/pjesnike koji dolaze iz malih zemlja poput moje, ili koji pišu u relativno nepoznatim jezicima poput hrvatskog, je činjenica da oni ne dostignu pravu 'slavu' koju bi dostigli zbog svojeg izvrsnog stila. Na primjer, zamislite da je Poe pisao na hrvatskom? Tko bi ikada čuo za Poea? Ne mnogo ljudi, i isto tako ne bi mnogo ljudi moglo uživati u slikama koje je on oživio svojom lirikom. Ista stvar je sa Matošom...samo da je pisao na jeziku koji je pristupačniji svijetu, bio bi cijenjen od strane miliona ljudi zbog genija koji je bio. S druge strane, da je pisao na engleskome, da li bi njegove pjesme bile tako dobre?

Ovo je ta pjesma:

Utjeha kose

Gledo sam te sinoć. U snu. Tužan. Mrtvu.
U dvorani kobnoj, u idili cvijeća,
Na visokom odru, u agoniji svijeća,
Gotov da ti predam život kao žrtvu.

Nisam plako. Nisam. Zapanjen sam stao
U dvorani kobnoj, punoj smrti krasne,
Sumnjajući da su tamne oči jasne
Odakle mi nekad bolji život sjao.

Sve baš, sve je mrtvo: oči dah i ruke,
Sve što očajanjem htjedoh da oživim
U slijepoj stravi i u strasti muke,

U dvorani kobnoj, mislima u sivim.
Samo kosa tvoja još je bila živa,
Pa mi reče: Miruj! U smrti se sniva.


Tags: dune, languages, poetry, rpgs
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