Inguna Jansone 
ÜbersetzerIn

auf Lyrikline: 2 Gedichte übersetzt

aus: englisch nach: lettisch

Original

Übersetzung

The Hat

englisch | Matthew Sweeney

A green hat is blowing through Harvard Square
and no one is trying to catch it.
Whoever has lost it has given up –
perhaps, because his wife was cheating,
he took it off and threw it like a frisbee,
trying to decapitate a statue
of a woman in her middle years
who doesn’t look anything like his wife.
This wind wouldn’t lift the hat alone,
and any man would be glad to keep it.
I can imagine – as it tumbles along,
gusting past cars, people, lampposts –
it sitting above a dark green suit.
The face between them would be bearded
and not unhealthy, yet. The eyes
would be green, too – an all green man
thinking of his wife in another bed,
these thoughts all through the green hat,
like garlic in the pores, and no one,
no one pouncing on the hat to put it on.

© Matthew Sweeney & Jonathan Cape
aus: Selected Poems
London : Jonathan Cape, 2002
Audio production: 2006, M.Mechner / Literaturwerkstatt Berlin

PLATMALE

lettisch

Zaļa platmale lido pa Hārvardas laukumu,
un neviens to nevēlas noķert.
Platmales saimnieks to pametis –
varbūt tādēļ, ka sieva to krāpa,
viņš noņēma platmali, meta kā disku,
gribēdams notriekt galvu statujai, -
sievietei vidējos gados,
kas nebija līdzīga viņa sievai.
Vējš neliek un neliek platmali mierā,
kurš gan nepriecātos par tādu?
Es iztēlojos – kamēr tā ripo
garām mašīnām, laternām, ļaudīm –
kā tā piedien virs tumšzaļa uzvalka.
Seja pa visu ir bārdaina,
taču nav neveselīga. Un acis
arī ir zaļas – vīrs viscaur ir zaļā
un domā par sievu cita gultā,
un ar šīm domām zaļā platmale
pievilkusies kā ar ķiploku dvaku, un neviens
neķer platmali, lai to uzliktu galvā.

Translation: Inguna Jansone

Poker

englisch | Matthew Sweeney

There were five of us playing that night,
Padge, Kieran, Neal and me –
and, stretched out in his coffin, Uncle Charlie.
We dealt him a hand each time
and took it in turns to bet for him,
waiving his losses, pooling his wins,
for what good were coins to him?
What could he win but his life?
Still, five of us played that night
and when we stopped it was daylight.
We left the cards with him
to remind him, forever, of that game
and Padge, Kieran, Neal and me
went up the road to our beds
and slept until we buried him,
then played until we had to agree
the good hands had gone with Uncle Charlie.

© Matthew Sweeney & Jonathan Cape
aus: Selected Poems
London : Jonathan Cape, 2002
Audio production: 2006, M.Mechner / Literaturwerkstatt Berlin

POKERS

lettisch

Tovakar pokeru spēlējām pieci,
Peidžs un Kīrens, Nīls un es –
un, zārkā izstiepies rāmi, arī tēvocis Čārlijs.
mēs dalījām viņam kārtis un rindas kārtībā
spēlējām viņa vietā,
atdevām zaudēto, savācām laimēto, -
kam viņam tagad vairs nauda,
ja dzīvību nevar laimēt?
Tomēr mēs pokeru spēlējām pieci,
un, kad beidzām, bija jau gaišs.
Kārtis atstājām viņam, lai mūžībā
tēvocis atcerētos šo spēli.
Tad Peidžs un Kīrans, Nīls un es
devāmies uz savām gultām
un gulējām līdz pat bērēm,
tad spēlējām atkal, bet sapratām,
Veiksme ir prom ar tēvoci Čārliju.

Translation: Inguna Jansone