Ivan V. Lalić 
Übersetzer:in

auf Lyrikline: 2 Gedichte übersetzt

aus: englisch nach: serbisch

Original

Übersetzung

My Weariness of Epic Proportions

englisch | Charles Simic

I like it when
Achilles
Gets killed
And even his buddy Patroclus –
And that hothead Hector –
And the whole Greek and Trojan
Jeunesse dorée
Are more or less
Expertly slaughtered
So there’s finally
Peace and quiet
(The gods having momentarily
Shut up)
One can hear
A bird sing
And a daughter ask her mother
Whether she can go to the well
And of course she can
By that lovely little path
That winds through
The olive orchard

© Charles Simic
aus: New and Selected Poems
New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013

Moj zamor od epskih proporcija

serbisch

Sviđa mi se
Kada Ahila
Ubiju
Pa čak i druškana mu Patrokla –
I onu usijanu glavu Hektora –
I kad je čitava grčka i trojanska
Jeunesse dorée
Manje ili više
Stručno poklana
Tako da je najzad
Mir i tišina
(Bogovi su za trenutak
Zavezali)
Može da se čuje
Kako peva ptica
I neka ćerka pita majku
Sme li da ode do izvora
Pa naravno da sme
Po toj finoj maloj stazi
Što vijuga
Kroz maslinjak

Prevela: Ivan V. Lalić

Against Whatever It Is That’s Encroaching

englisch | Charles Simic

Best of all is to be idle,
And especially on a Thursday,
And to sip wine while studying the light:
The way it ages, yellows, turns ashen
And then hesitates forever
On the threshold of the night
That could be bringing the first frost.

It’s good to have a woman around just then,
And two is even better.
Let them whisper to each other
And eye you with a smirk.
Let them roll up their sleeves and unbutton their shirts a bit
As this fine old twilight deserves,

And the small schoolboy
Who has come home to a room almost dark
And now watches wide-eyed
The grownups raise their glasses to him,
The giddy-headed, red-haired woman
With eyes tightly shut,
As if she were about to cry or sing.

© Charles Simic
aus: New and Selected Poems
New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013

Protiv bilo čega što prelazi meru

serbisch

Najbolje je besposličiti,
A naročito kada je četvrtak,
I pijuckati vino dok proučavaš svetlost:
Kako stari, žuti, postaje pepeljast
A onda zauvek okleva
Na pragu noći
Koja možda donosi prvi mraz.

Dobro je kad se baš tada nađe u blizini žena,
A ako su dve, još bolje.
Neka šapuću jedna drugoj
I motre te, smeškaju se glupo.
Neka zavrnu rukave i raskopčaju malo košulje
Kao što to ovaj fini prisni sumrak zaslužuje,

A onda taj mali đak
Koji se vratio kući u sobu skoro mračnu
I sada gleda razrogačeno
Te odrasle koji mu nazdravljaju čašama,
Tu trapovesnu riđokosu ženu
Očiju čvrsto sklopljenih,
Kao da bi da zaplače ili zapeva.

Prevela: Ivan V. Lalić