This is a pdf file containing five poems by Fydor Tuytchev, Afanasy Fet and Alexei Tolstoy.
Image by NilookaD; Pickingflowers
How much stays unseen when some eye on us gazes–
A sub-text may run under clear-sounding phrases
And sighs of delight or expressions of sorrow
May differ in meaning from poses they borrow.
We lie on the grass, watch the sunlight which spreads,
But what are the thoughts that go round in our heads?
We meet. Stroll along in the garden’s deep shade,
But what is our purpose? What plans have we made?
Our time throbs and shakes with the problems of ages,
But man and his soul are a book of sealed pages!
At sight we are simple. No need for much guessing,
But what are our feelings? Extatic? Depressing?
We lunch in cheap restaurants without star rating
But maybe a triumph we are celebrating!
And perhaps it’s not transport that gives us a ride,
But invisible wings, which don’t show from outside.
Translated by Eva Strauss
From: Soviet Literature, 1979; ISSN-0202-1870
A few more lines from the poetry collection, Light of the Hearth
By Ivan Savelyev | Translated by Walter May.
From your first song until your farewell song
There stretches in between a long stern road.
Here trickling like a ringing springtime stream,
And there like some broad-bosomed river it flows.
And in its waters, deep and pure and clear,
Like sand-bank islands, failures will sink and cease,
And out will blaze above the shining space
The lighthouse beams of mighty victories.
For all your previous disappointed hopes,
For all your losses, and for all distress,
They will light up for you your entire road–
Remember, and observe, and go ahead!
And may be here’s the wonder of constancy,
The marvel of loyalty which does not die out,–
That to your dream you’ll go, and not lose heart,
And not for even a moment will you doubt.
And maybe in such action lies our goal,
And even the primary purpose
Of life, let’s say:
To discover in your self an exalted song,
And not to betray it then in any way.
English Translation © Raduga Publications 1987
A few lines from the poetry collection, Light of the Hearth
By Ivan Savelyev
The poems were translated by Walter May.
At any and every time of the year,
Whatever the dream I live at that hour,
With nature’s voice in harmony here
Is the tuning of my emotional power.
So near to me her tears, her hurts,
So heavy her grief and loss again,
That when they hack a branch from a birch
In my own arms I feel the pain.
* * *
No, the heavens are surely never blind,
And the earth can surely not lack sight.
Grasses deaf from birth you will not find.
Rivers without hearing would not be right.
It is we, the sons of heaven and earth,
Finding ourselves not all at once, I fear,
On the millennia’s steep road struggling forth,
Who are slowly learning to see and hear…