Tatiana Bonch-Osmolovskaya
english
Crannchur
Sa dairchoill idir chamáin chrann
le coimheascar lae
luíomar gan chraiceann seal
sa chríonach méith.
Chuireamar préamha geala fúinn
is chuaigh le craobh
gur deineadh crainn
faoi lánduilliúr
dínn araon.
Scar an t-uabhar daonna linn
mar d’éireodh éan.
Bhraitheas gluais na coille ag rith
inár leagan séimh
is idirshnámh ár ngéag teann
le gus an tsaoil.
Dhein crainn na coille rothalchleas
faoi bhroideadh gaoithe.
Chuireadar a gcinn i gcré
le teacht na síne
is chrochadar a bpréamha in airde
ag maslú Geimhridh.
Leanaimis sampla ár gcomhchrann ar theacht don oíche.
Seasaimis béal fúinn sa chré, beag beann ar dhaoine
ag deochadh linn faoi mhúr duilleog
go soilbhir simplí
is sneachta caoin ag cigilt
ár mbarraicíní.
Stars Are Not The Limit
in the darkness torn by light
are the eyes ever begging
do they roam nude over slippery objects
bumping into faces, corners, holy images
dropping into flickering, which is not identified at once...
you would think too late: tracer and dotted light line
of flaks over the fields of Kosovo
thank God not directly over your head
And ears ring... And in the spills of a distant siren
as if the heavenly racket began to sing
he grabs you he throws you head-first at walls –
just stars from your eyes. But even the stars are not the limit
Four Centuries. Russian Poetry in Translation. — Issue 14 (August 2016).