As you prepare your hearts for the Lenten Season (and Holy Week for my friends back in the states) I hope that my translation of this poem is meaningful to you. The original may be found here for Ukrainian speakers.
Sorrowful Mother, a poem in four parts, translated by Michael Airgood.
SORROWFUL
MOTHER
In memory
of my mother
I
Through a
field she passed
And on
trails, down a path.
Her heart
irradiated
With each
knife's brilliant gash.
As she
gazed - silence reigned.
A corpse
rotting in the rye...
The
sleepy grain refrained:
Rejoice, Mary! was their cry.
The
sleepy grain refrained:
Remain with us, stay!
The
blessed mother remained,
And tears
broke away.
A
starless sky, and no moon,
Yet the
day was slow to start.
It's
scary!.. How poorly hewn
Has grown
the human heart.
II
Through a
field she passed -
In
forests green and airy...
She met
her Son's Disciple cast:
Rejoice forever, Mary!
Rejoice forever, Mary:
We've been searching for Jesus
Which way, then, shall we terry
To take us to Emmaus?
Mary
raised her pale hands,
Judea is not for you.
Pointing
with her lilly hands,
Turn from Galilee, too.
But rather, go to Ukraine,
Stop in cities and the sticks -
Perhaps there it can be seen
The shadow of his crucifix.
III
Through a
field she passed.
A field
with graves so scary
Against
her face, the wind, contrary
Christ is Risen, Mary!
Christ is Risen? - uncertainly,
I haven't heard, I don't know.
There won't be heaven, though
In this bloodsplattered land of woe.
Christ is Risen, Mary!
We are the flowers of thistle,
We sprout at blood's whistle
On the field of battle.
Silence
in distant towns.
A field
with graves so scary.
A flower
sings so swan-y:
Be merciful, Mary!
IV
Through a
field she passed...
- and must this country die? -
Where He was born the second time, -
The land he loved till dying's cry?
As she
gazed - silence reigned.
The wild
rye has thrived.
-Why were you crucified?
For what have you been killed?
She
couldn't stand the sadness,
Or more
of torment's tricks,-
Her knees
crumpled to the grass,
Her arms
crossed - the Crucifix!...
Above her
the grain and leaven
"Rejoice, Rejoice!" - quietly whispered.
But the
angels up in heaven -
They have
neither known nor heard.
Translated
by M.B. Airgood(c)
December
2012
I did not
presume to be able to translate this poem more accurately than previous
translations, but hoped that I would be able to make it more lyrical and
graceful without straying too far from the text. As with all translation from short line,
rhythmic, rhyming verse - a direct, accurate translation is virtually
impossible. For many months I considered
translating this piece, but was uncertain if another translation was
necessary.
However,
having lived in the Slavic world for some years; and having experienced the
Lenten fast and Easter festivities many times within a Christian community, I
had never heard this story of Mary's descent.
I was fascinated by the love of a mother facing hell itself to save her
son. I translated this in honor of my
own mother, who loves me so and loves the people of Ukraine so fiercely without
even the most tenuous of ethnic connection to this country.
We are,
however, connected by faith, in each reading of the line "Христос воскрес", I remember the call
and response of the Easter Sundays of my childhood. Christ is Risen. He is
Risen, Indeed!
It is the
tenuous, frightened, unbelieving recital of this liturgy throughout this poem
that draws me to learn more about Tychyna's faith. The young son of a deacon who grew into this
tremendous poet, who grew into perhaps a puppet of the soviet government.
I am most
intrigued by the religious views and writing of Ukrainian poets of this time
period, and hope to research the topic more thoroughly in the future.
I have tried to italicize all of the spoken
lines of the poem to help the English reader make more sense of what becomes
less apparent in the absence of Ukrainian grammar! I hope this translation will help others
understand this apocryphal, beautiful story more fully.
M.B.
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