Fleurs du Mal Magazine
Or see the index
Nikola Vaptsarov
(1909-1942)
Love Song
Like a concrete ceiling above us
the murderous threat grinds down again.
Dismay and frigtening tumult hold us,
within our souls we murmured “War!”
I see tumult everywhere:
in every factory stack and flue,
I see it in the sunset
and in the sky so calm and blue.
When one’s encircled and shut in
as we are now on every side,
is it really such a sin
a little spot for love to hide?
Is it a sin – I wish you would say –
that even when the workshop
is rented by angry bullet spray
I’ve time to think, I love her still?
Yes, our little world of love
is very small, that is true,
that’s why with eyes fixed straight ahead
I sing so short a song for you.
ЛЮБОВНА
Като бетонен блок над нас
тежи барутната тревога.
Душите ни ръмжат: – Война!
В душите кръв, и смут и огън.
Аз виждам тоя смут дори
сега в фабричните комини,
на запад в залеза или
в небето тъй спокойно синьо.
И в тези дни, кажи ми ти,
когато ни притягат в обръч,
в сърцето, грях ли е, кажи,
че пазя още кът за обич?
Кажи ми грях ли е, че пак,
дори и в този шум фабричен,
процепен с зъл картечен грак,
си мисля: – Колко я обичам!…
Да, вярно, мъничкият свет
на нашата любов е тесен,
затуй със поглед, впит напред,
ти пиша толкоз малка песен.
Nikola Vaptsarov poetry
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive U-V, Vaptsarov, Nikola
.jpg)
Nikola Vaptsarov
(1909-1942)
Song
Over Pirin
howling winds
the forests sway.
We were seven
set out to fight
far away;
very soon
we lost sight
of Pirin
and its starry night.
In the bushes
with wild beasts we slept
and across the border
we crept.
On the grass
we seemed to see stains
of our fathers’ blood
washed by the rains.
And we seemed to hear
the green leaves say
where our mothers
in the ground lay.
We knew
when we saw earth cherry-red,
that our first love
lay there dead.
Seven of us
sent away to fight.
Only three of us
came back through the night.
Nikola Vaptsarov poetry
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive U-V, Vaptsarov, Nikola
.jpg)
Nikola Vaptsarov
(1909-1942)
The Wife’s Song
Now the quiet full of fear
flowers in our little shack.
Over is the fight, my dear,
but you don’t come back.
And I wept, and did implore;
why would you not hear?
So you went. Within our door
close it grew and drear.
All I heard was the alarm
of my heart that beat in pain,
and softly I put out my arm
hoping to find you there again.
I am jealous, Fernandez,
there’s a word I hate –
“freedom”, – for it did obsess
all your thoughts of late.
Maybe you are right, who knows?
Maybe you are right, my dear,
but the pain still tears and gnaws
and I fear, I fear
that dreadful emptiness that hangs
in our room and seems to grow.
There, I hear, the front-gate bangs. –
But you won’t come back, I know.
ПЕСЕН НА ЖЕНАТА
Днес тревожния покой
дебне в малката ни къща.
Стихна боя, мили мой,
ала ти се не завръщаш.
А те молих, плаках аз,
ти защо не ме послуша?
Тръгна. В стаята тогаз
стана тихо и задушно.
Само моето сърце
чувах как тревожно бие
и протегнала ръце,
исках пак да те открия…
Аз ревнувам, Фернандес,
мразя даже тази дума
“свобода”, която днес
те увлече тъй безумно.
Може би си прав, нали?
Може би си прав, любими,
ала мене ме боли
и тежи ми, и тежи ми
тая страшна пустота,
легнала във нашта стая.
Хлопна пътната врата. –
Няма да се върнеш. Зная.
Nikola Vaptsarov poetry
source: http://www.slovo.bg/old/f/en/vaptsarov/
fleursdumal.nl magazine
More in: Archive U-V, Vaptsarov, Nikola
Thank you for reading Fleurs du Mal - magazine for art & literature